SAMUEL  FRENCH,  28-30  Wert  38th  St.,  New  York 


GOLDEN  DAYS 

EY  TOLER  and  MARION  SHORT 


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GOLDEN  DAYS 


A  COMEDY  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


BY 


SIDNEY  TOLER  and  MARION  SHORT 


CAUTION. — Professionals  and  amateurs  are  hereby  warned 
that  “GOLDEN  DAYS/’  being  fully  protected  under  the 
copyright  laws  of  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain,  is 
subject  to  a  royalty  and  anyone  presenting  the  play  with¬ 
out  the  consent  of  the  authors  or  their  authorized  agents 
will  be  liable  to  the  penalties  by  law  provided.  Applica¬ 
tion  for  professional  and  amateur  acting  rights  must  be 
made  to  Samuel  French,  28-30  West  38th  Street,  New 
York  City,  N.  Y. 


New  York 

SAMUEL  FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30  West  38th  Street 


London 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Ltd. 
26  Southampton  Street 
STRAND 


Copyright,  1919,  by  Samuel  French 
(Under  the  title  of  “The  Golden  Age”) 
(Copyright,  1919,  in  Canada  by  Samuel  French) 

Rewritten  and  Revised,  1921,  by  Sidney  Toler  and  Marion 
Short 

Copyright,  1922,  by  Samuel  French 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Especial  notice  should  be  taken  that  the  possession  of 
this  book  without  a  valid  contract  for  production  first 
having  been  obtained  from  the  publisher,  confers  no  right 
or  license  to  professionals  or  amateurs  to  produce  the  play 
publicly  or  in  private  for  gain  or  charity. 

In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the  reading 
public  only,  and  no  performance,  representation,  produc¬ 
tion,  recitation,  or  public  reading  may  be  given  except  by 
special  arrangement  with  Samuel  French,  28-30  West  38th 
Street,  New  York. 

This  play  may  be  presented  by  amateurs  upon  payment 
of  a  royalty  of  Twenty-Five  Dollars  for  each  perform¬ 
ance,  payable  to  Samuel  French,  28-30  West  38th  Street, 
New  York,  one  week  before  the  date  when  the  play  is 
given. 

Whenever  the  play  is  produced  the  following  notice  must 
appear  on  all  programs,  printing  and  advertising  tor  the 
play:  “Produced  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel 
French  of  New  York.” 

Attention  is  called  to  the  penalty  provided  by  law  for 
any  infringement  of  the  author's  rights,  as  follows : 

“Section  4966 : — Any  person  publicly  performing  or  rep¬ 
resenting  any  dramatic  or  musical  composition  for  which 
copyright  has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the 
proprietor  of  said  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his 
heirs  and  assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  thereof, 
such  damages,  in  all  cases  to  be  assessed  at  such  sum,  not 
less  than  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dol¬ 
lars  for  every  subsequent  performance,  as  to  the  court 
shall  appear  to  be  just.  If  the  unlawful  performance  and 
representation  be  wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person  or 
persons  shall  be  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  con¬ 
viction  shall  be  imprisoned  for  a  period  not  exceeding  one 
year.” — U.  S.  Revised  Statutes:  Title  60,  Chap.  3. 


rfou  4§ CTroT 


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CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

Lloyd  Henderson 
“Teddy”  Farnum 
William  Barclay 
Richard  Stanhope 
>  Charlie  Mason 
{  Edgar  Moon 
Frank  Montgomery 
Mrs.  Drexel  Kirkland 
Elaine  Jewett 
Trelle  Webb 
Patty  Ellison 
i  Annabelle  Larsh 
Of  New  York's  social  400 
Felice,  Mrs.  Kirkland's  French  maid. 

Sarah  Applegate  Slissy 
Betsy  Scroggins 
Mrs.  John  Simmonds 
Mary  Anne  Simmonds 

NOTE. — The  above  cast  may  be  shortened  appreciably 
by  distributing  the  lines  assigned  to  the  lesser  char¬ 
acters  of  Moon,  Montgomery  and  Annabelle  Larsh 
among  the  other  members  of  the  company. 

SYNOPSIS  OF  SCENES 
ACT  I 

Sitting  room  in  the  Simmonds’  home,  Farmdale,  Conn. 
Spring,  1917. 

(The  Bud.) 

ACT  II 

Parlor  of  the  new  Farmdale  Hotel,  Farmdale. 

Same  evening. 

(The  Blossom) 

ACT  III 

An  upstairs  sitting  room  in  Mrs.  Kirkland’s  home,  New  York. 
Summer,  1917. 

(The  full  blown  Rose.) 

ACT  IV 

Same  as  Act  I. 

Spring,  1919. 

(The  perfume  of  Romance.) 

3 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Scene:  Sitting-room  of  the  Simmonds'  home.  The 
furniture  is  largely  of  the  old-fashioned  horse¬ 
hair  variety,  with  mahogany  tables,  cabinets,  etc. 
Family  portraits  in  oval  and  other  frames  on  the 
wall.  An  inherited  assortment  of  bric-a-brac  on 
the  mantelpiece,  c.,  also  a  clock  and  an  old  to¬ 
bacco- Jar  (opaque).  The  tobacco-jar  is  a  relic 
of  Mr.  Simmonds  and  is  necessary  to  the  ac¬ 
tion  of  the  play.  At  extreme  right  stands  an 
old  melodeon.  Against  wall  at  l.  a  cabinet  for 
silverware,  etc.  Old-fashioned  oil  lamps  rest  on 
both  organ  and  cabinet.  Mahogany  tables  have 
been  carefully  placed  at  R.  and  L.  to  receive 
emergency  tea-room  guests  from  the  porch  out¬ 
side.  The  porch  is  visible  through  French  win¬ 
dows  (made  in  three  sections)  which  round  the 
corner  of  the  room  up  l.,  and  through  these 
windows  the  sign  <(Tca  Room ”  is  visible  on  a 
post.  On  the  porch  may  be  glimpsed  a  rustic 
tea-table  and  chair.  Above  the  organ  at  r.  is  a 
small  stand  containing  telephone  book  with  wall 
telephone  close  at  hand.  Oblique  in  r.  is  a  door 
to  kitchen  quarters.  Through  this  door  when 
open  a  glimpse  of  practical  stairway  is  seen. 
At  l.  double  doors  lead  to  hallway  and  front 
door  (which  is  not  seen).  Armchairs  are  at  R. 
5 


6 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


of  table  at  r,  and  at  l.  of  table  at  l.,  with  small 
chairs  on  inner  side .  On  the  tables  are  fancy 
covers.  A  small  stand  with  flower -vase  is  up 
near  mantel-piece.  An  old-fashioned  piano  stool 
stands  in  front  of  the  organ,  and  one  or  two 
small  chairs  are  conveniently  placed.  The 
whole  effect  of  the  room  is  tidy,  but  both  wall¬ 
paper  and  furnishings  are  somewhat  outworn, 
as  is  the  carpet  on  the  floor. 

Time  :  The  afternoon  of  a  warm,  sunny  day  in  June, 
1917. 

Discovered:  Mrs.  Simmonds,  Betsy  and  Miss 
Slissy.  Mrs.  Simmonds  and  Betsy  have  their 
sleeves  rolled  up  and  are  dusting  the  furniture 
and  putting  things  to  rights,  Mrs.  Simmonds 
with  great  energy,  Betsy  lackadaisically.  It  is 
at  once  apparent  that  they  are  mistress  and 

Miss  Slissy,  village  milliner  and  dressmaker 
of  uncertain  years,  occupies  armchair  at  r.,  her 
sewing-bag  on  table  at  her  side,  a  hat  in  her 
hands  which  she  is  trimming  rather  gaudily.  Her 
dress  expresses  a  somewhat  ludicrous  compro¬ 
mise  between  painstaking  economy  and  a  pas¬ 
sion  for  the-fad-of-the-moment  in  style. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Continuing  a  conversation  al¬ 
ready  begun)  Of  course  Fm  tickled  to  death,  but 
she  gave  me  no  warning  at  all,  just  telegraphed  this 
morning  she’d  be  here  this  afternoon.  I’d  calculated 
to  house-clean  a  whole  week  before  she  came,  so’s 
everything  would  be  spick  and  span. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Fusses  with  needle  and  thread) 
Dust  is  terrible  this  time  of  year,  all  owin’  to  them 
automobiles.  No  sooner  does  it  settle  from  one 
than  here  comes  another. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


7 


Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Nervously  anxious  to  rid  her¬ 
self  of  Miss  Slissy)  I  thought  you  said,  Sairey, 
you  could  finish  that  hat  in  ten  minutes.  That  must 
have  been  two  hours  ago.  So  you’ll  excuse  me  for 
goin’  right  ahead,  'won’t  you  ? 

Miss  Slissy.  (Refusing  to  take  a  hint)  Cer¬ 
tainly,  don’t  mind  me.  I  didn’t  s’pose  I’d  set  the 
afternoon,  but  sometimes  things  take  longer  than 
you  calculate  they  will,  like  this  hat  for  Mary  Anne. 
My,  but  it’s  cute!  Sometimes  I  don’t  know  which 
I’m  best  at,  millinery  or  dressmakin’.  Guess  it  must 
be  six  of  one  and  half-dozen  of  the  other.  Now 
that  chick  dress  I  made  over  for  the  station  agent’s 
sister-in-law - 

Betsy.  (Her  speech  is  a  drawl,  and  she  smites 
lazily  at  furniture  with  a  dust  cloth)  How  “made 
over” ? 

Miss  Slissy.  (Heedless  of  a  nervous  exclama¬ 
tion  from  Mrs.  SimmondsJ  Well,  I  brought  the 
full  part  to  the  top,  and  the  waist-band  narrow  part 
down  to  the  bottom  to  save  material - 

Betsy.  Was  it  stylish? 

Miss  Slissy.  Stylish?  The  first  time  she  tried 
to  step  onto  a  trolley  car  in  it,  three  men  almost  got 
run  over. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Betsy,  stop  talkin’,  now,  and 
carry  out  that  scrap-basket.  (Brings  vase  from 
small  stand  and  sets  it  on  table  l.)  Miss  Slissy, 
my  sister’ll  be  here  most  any  time  now. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  you  ain’t  askin’  me  to  go 
home,  be  you? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Weakening)  Of  course  not. 
( Goes  over  to  organ  and  dusts.) 

(Betsy  exits  r.  with  waste-basket.) 

Miss  Slissy.  I  want  to  see  what  she’s  wear- 


8 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


in’.  In  my  business  I  have  to  keep  up  with  the  New 
York  styles  right  along.  ( Gazing  at  hat.)  There, 
that’s  finished.  Where’d  Mary  Anne  go? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  She’s  gathering  some  lilacs  for 
decoration.  They’re  her  aunt’s  favorite  flower. 

Miss  Slissy.  ’Course  it’s  natural  to  fix  up  for 
rich  relatives. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Resents  the  idea)  We’d  do 
it  just  the  same  if  she  didn’t  have  a  penny. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  I  ain’t  sayin’  you  wouldn’t. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Mary  Anne  simply  worships 
her  Aunt  Maria.  Betsy!  ( Crosses  to  c.  Goes  to 
door  r.)  That’s  the  laziest  mortal  that  ever  drew 
the  breath  of  life.  (Calls  again)  Betsy!  (She 
opens  the  door  R.J  What  do  you  mean  by  sitting 
there  as  if  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  gaze  at  the 
woodshed  ? 

Betsy.  (Lazily  enters  rJ  I  wasn’t  gazing  at  the 
woodshed. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Then  what  were  you  looking 
at? 

Betsy.  The  hired  man. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  What’s  the  matter  with  him? 

Betsy.  He’s  got  new  boots. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  suppose  if  I  told  you  to  dust 
the  hired  man,  for  once  in  your  life  you’d  stick  to 
your  work. 

Betsy.  Ye-yes-m ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  c.)  He’s  the  only  article 
you  seem  to  be  able  to  keep  your  mind  on. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  he  is  sort  of  good  lookin’,  at 
a  distance. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Dusting  mantelpiece)  And 
the  further  the  distance,  the  better  looking  he  gets. 
(To  Betsy J  Wipe  off  that  table!  (Points  l.) 

(Betsy  barely  stops  at  table ,  but  goes  on  and  wipes 


Golden  Days”  See  page  11 


•4 


V 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


9 

the  chair  l.  by  window,  her  attention  caught  by 
something  outside.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Have  many  customers  to-day? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Some,  but  most  of  the  trade 
comes  Saturdays. 

Miss  Slissy.  How  d’ye  suppose  your  rich  sister 
will  take  it,  you  runnin’  a  tea-shop?  Most  wealthy 
folks  is  kind  of  high  and  mighty. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Comes  down  to  table  l.) 
Don’t  let  that  worry  you,  Miss  Slissy.  My  sister’s 
too  fine  a  woman  to  have  any  false  pride.  (She 
lets  the  remainder  of  her  pique  out  on  Betsy )  Land 
sakes,  Betsy,  don’t  keep  on  rubbin’  as  if  that  leg 
had  a  case  of  rheumatism.  Change  off  to  the  back. 

(Betsy  slowly  attacks  back  of  chair,  still  gazing  out 
of  window.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Is  she  cornin’  for  quite  a  stay  1 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Dusting  here  and  there )  Yes. 
She’s  tired  and  needs  a  rest. 

Miss  Slissy.  Shouldn’t  think  she'd  get  tired — 
what  with  three  hired  girls.  They  say  she  don’t 
even  go  to  market  herself. 

Betsy.  (At  window  l.)  And  she  wears  silk 
nightgowns,  silk  all  over.  I  saw  ’em  once  and  felt 
’em.  They’re  nice  and  crawly  to  your  fingers. 

Miss  Slissy.  Mercy  me!  Reminds  me  of  cater¬ 
pillars  !  ( Shudders.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Pointing  to  window  curtains 
that  have  been  knotted  up  to  keep  them  out  of  the 
dust)  Betsy,  let  down  them  curtains,  and  dust  off 
the  mantel  ornaments.  They  look  like  the  dirt  had 
been  on  ’em  since  Noah  occupied  the  Ark. 

(Betsy  slowly  lets  down  curtains,  her  attention  out¬ 
side.) 


10 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Miss  Slissy.  Such  Babylonian  extravagance ! 
Silk  night  gowns!  I  thought  nobody  but  moving- 
picture  actresses  wore  them  things. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I’m  sure  a  body  could  sleep 
just  as  well  in  silk  ones  as  they  could  in  the  others. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Virtuously)  I  wear  seersucker. 
They  don’t  even  have  to  be  ironed. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Brings  vase  from  mantel  to 
table  lJ  Well,  it’s  her  money  and  I  guess  she  can 
do  with  it  as  she  feels  like.  (Notices  Betsy  at  l., 
staring  out  of  window.)  Betsy,  what  in  the  world 
are  you  starin’  at? 

Betsy.  (Turning  regretfully  from  windozv)  The 
hired  man. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Good  land!  Is  the  hired  man 
on  all  sides  of  the  house  at  once? 

Betsy.  (Moves  toward  door  l.)  Shall  I  go  out 
and  see  ? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  No,  you’ll  not.  Come  away 
from  that  door.  (To  Miss  SlissyJ  That  girl’s 
got  no  more  sense  of  humor  than  a  guinea  hen.  (To 
BetsyJ  Go  out  in  the  kitchen  and  scour  up  the 
pans  I  left  in  the  sink;  and  if  you  find  the  hired 
man  on  that  side  of  the  house,  ask  him  to  take  off 
his  boots  for  you  to  put  on  the  organ  for  an  orna¬ 
ment  to  look  at. 

Betsy.  ( With  unusual  alacrity )  Yes,  um.  (Exits 
at  r.J 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  do  believe  she  thought  I 
meant  it.  She’s  got  no  more  sense  of  humor  than — 
(Throws  up  her  hands  in  despair.) 

(Mary  Anne  enters  through  window  at  l.  She 
carries  a  huge  armful  of  lilacs  and  comes  back 
of  table  at  ,lJ 

Mary  Anne.  Here  they  are,  Mother.  I  picked 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


ii 


the  prettiest  ones  I  could  find.  See,  Miss  Slissy? 

Miss  Slissy.  Umph  hm.  Here’s  your  hat,  and 
if  I  do  say  it  myself,  it’s  one  of  my  swellest  crea¬ 
tions.  (She  holds  it  up  for  inspection  and  Mary 
Anne,  laying  most  of  the  lilacs  on  table,  crosses  to 
her,  looking  at  the  hat  doubtfully . ) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (l.c.)  Don’t  you  like  it,  Mary 
Anne  ? 

Mary  Anne.  Y-es.  (Holds  hat  out  and  regards 
it  critically)  But  isn’t  it  just  a  little — enthusiastic? 

Miss  Slissy.  Variety  of  flowers  and  fruits  is  all 
the  style — the  gayer  the  stylisher.  And  it  just 
matches  your  new  dress.  You’re  going  to  look 
grand  in  it  at  the  party  to-night. 

Mary  Anne.  (Trying  to  like  the  hat)  Which 
is  -the  front? 

Miss  Slissy.  It’s  reversible — that’s  the  latest. 
Cornin’  or  goin’,  you’ll  look  just  the  same.  Try  it 
on. 

(Mary  Anne  lifts  hat  almost  to  her  head,  then  her 
courage  fails.) 

Mary  Anne.  I’ll  try  it  on  when  I’m  dressed. 
Won’t  you  have  a  posy? 

Miss  Slissy.  (Accepts  the  spray  of  lilacs  Mary 
Anne  offers)  Much  obliged.  They  say  flowers 
bring  out  your  complexion  if  you  have  any,  and  I 
always  did  pride  myself  on  having  considerable. 

Mary  Anne.  (Putting  lilacs  in  vases  on  table  at 
l.)  Dear  Aunt  Maria!  I  can  hardly  realize  that 
in  a  few  minutes  she’ll  be  here,  right  in  this  room 
with  us! 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  goodness  knows  I  should 
think  your  ma  would,  after  all  the  fussin’  around 
she’s  been  doin’. 


12 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mrs.  Simmonds.  Do  you  suppose  she’ll  come  in 
her  automobile,  Mary  Anne? 

Mary  Anne.  I  hope  so.  I’d  just  adore  riding 
around  in  it. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Slowly  putting  thread,  etc.,  hack 
into  sewing-hag)  There’s  a  whole  crowd  of  city 
folks  expected  at  the  hotel  to  the  dance  to-night. 
Billy  Barclay  is  bringing  some  of  ’em  in  his  motor 
car. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Snaps,  turning  on  Miss  Slis¬ 
sy  )  Yes,  Miss  Slissy,  we  knew  it. 

Miss  Slissy.  And  that  Miss  Elaine  Jewett  who 
was  here  two  summers  ago — she’s  with  ’em. 

Mary  Anne.  (To  r.c.J  Elaine? 

(Mrs.  Simmonds  glances  at  Mary  Anne  appre¬ 
hensively.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Yes.  She  and  her  folks  are  going 
to  live  right  in  the  Barclay  cottage  cause  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Barclay  ain’t  cornin’  down  this  summer.  They 
say  young  Billy’s  just  crazy  about  Elaine. 

Mary  Anne.  Honestly,  Miss  Slissy,  I’m  not  a 
bit  interested  in  the  Barclays  or  the  Jewetts. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well.  I’m  surprised !  Remember¬ 
in’  Billy  used  to  be  kind  of  sweet  on  you,  Mary 
Anne,  I  thought  maybe  you’d  like  to  know  what’s 
been - 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Indignantly,  down  c.)  That’s 
been  more  than  a  year  ago,  Sairy  Applegate  Slissy, 
and  neither  me  nor  Mary  Anne  is  caring  to  have 
you  talk  about  it.'  (Takes  vase  of  lilacs  from  Mary 
Anne,  placing  it  on  mantel.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Proudly)  Miss  Slissy  may  talk 
all  she  likes,  Mother,  as  far  as  I’m  concerned :  why 
shouldn’t  she? 

Miss  Slissy.  Why,  Mrs.  Simmonds,  you  sur- 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


13 


prise  me.  Flyin’  off  the  handle  like  that!  You  ain’t 
got  nothin’  serious  against  Billy  Barclay,  -have  you  ? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (c.  Her  voice  trembling ) 

Nothing  except - 

Mary  Anne.  (Warningly)  Mother! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Impulse  overcoming  her) 
Except  I  don’t  think  he’s  quite  as  honorable  as  some 
young  men  I’ve  known.  ( Works  down  to  c.) 
There,  I  will  say  that  much,  Mary  Anne,  even 
though  I  do  know  Miss  Slissy’ll  be  sure  to  repeat  it. 
( Moves  to  l.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Not  honorable?  Um! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Dusting  furiously  at  cabinet, 
extreme  l.J  Dear  me,  I’d  like  to  get  rid  of  this 
dust,  and — some  other  things  I  could  mention. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  can  remember  that  barn  dance  at 
the  Hillsby’s,  and  Mary  Anne  wearing  that  pretty 
white  and  blue  dress  I  made  for  her.  Billy  danced 
with  her  the  whole  evening  and  all  the  other  girls 
settin’  around  so  jealous  they  almost  had  a  fit.  (She 
pauses  to  see  the  effect  of  her  words.)  He  wasn’t 
here  last  summer  at  all,  was  he? 

Mary  Anne.  (With  dignity)  No,  he  wasn’t, 
Miss  Slissy. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Bursting  with  indignation) 
And  it’s  nothin’  against  Mary  Anne  if  he  wasn’t. 

Miss  Slissy.  Course  not.  I  don’t  mean  no  of¬ 
fense.  We  oughtn’t  to  take  rich  young  fellows  too 
serious.  Elaine  Jewett  engaged  me  by  letter  to  do 
some  sewin’  for  her,  beginnin’  -co-morrow. 

Mary  Anne.  Indeed ! 

Miss  Slissy.  Shouldn’t  wonder,  considerin’  the 
way  they  say  she  and  Billy  Barclay  have  been  carry- 
in’  on  in  New  York  last  winter,  it  might  be  the 
weddin’  trousoo.  And  that’s  where  I  shine.  (Mary 
Anne  takes  vase  to  l.,  small  table  in  window.  Miss 


14 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Slissy,  rising,  to  Mrs.  SimmondsJ  Seems  to  me 
Mary  Anne’s  lookin’  kind  of  droopy. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Snaps)  No  one  else  thinks 
so. 

Miss  Slissy.  (A  step  up  stage  c.,  to  Mary 
Anne)  Get  yourself  another  beau,  Mary  Anne. 
Ain’t  nothing  like  it  to  chirk  you  up. 

Mary  Anne.  I  don’t  need  chirking  up,  Miss 
Slissy,  thank  you!  (Miss  Slissy  picks  up  work- 
bag  and  puts  on  her  hat.  The  others  show  visible 
signs  of  relief.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Oh,  ain’t  got  no  tea  ready  made, 
have  you?  I  don’t  mind  if  it’s  stood  awhile. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  As  I  said  before,  we’re  ex¬ 
pectin’  my  sister  any  minute  now,  and - 

Miss  Slissy.  Oh,  well,  don’t  bother.  (Mary 
Anne  takes  vase  of  lilacs  over  across  to  organ  above 
the  others.)  But  seein’  that  you’d  opened  a  tea 
shop  I  was  just  going  to  patronise  you  some.  (Ar¬ 
ranges  hat-pin.)  I’ll  drop  around  in  a  few  days 
and  call  on  your  sister  if  I  get  time  from  the 
sewin’. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (c.)  Don’t  interrupt  yourself 
to  do  it,  Sairey.  It’ll  no  doubt  take  most  of  your 
time,  if  it’s  a  weddin’ ! 

Mary  Anne.  (r.  corner)  Mother! 

READY  pounding  effect,  and  horn. 

Miss  Slissy.  (To  Mary  AnneJ  If  it  wasn’t 
that  your  ma’s  run  down  and  nervous.  I’d  think  she 
was  takin’  that  weddin’  to  heart  some. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Well,  let  me  tell  you  this,  Miss 
Slissy,  if  any  man  on  earth  thinks  he’s  too  good  for 
my  Mary  Anne - 

Mary  Anne.  (Desperately)  Mother,  please! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  R.c.j  Excuse  me,  Mary 
Anne.  I’m  goin’  out  now  and  make  some  beat  bis¬ 
cuits  for  dinner,  so  if  you  hear  me  hammerin',  you’ll 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


i5 


know  what  it  is.  (Up  to  door  r.  She  glares  at 
Miss  Slissy.J  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Slissy.  (She 
exits  off  r.J 

Miss  Slissy.  (Moving  up  r.,  around  table  and 
to  Mary  c.)  Dear  me!  Don’t  she  get  fussy  over 
nothin’?  Well — if  it  is  Miss  Jewett’s  weddin’ 
things,  Mary  Anne,  I’ll  let  you  look  at  them  on  the 
QT. 

Mary  Anne.  (A  break  in  her  voice)  I — I  told 
you  once  I’m  not  interested  in  Miss  Jewett.  ( Crosses 
up  c.  to  mantel.) 

Miss  Slissy.  (Up  r.  of  MaryJ  Well,  you  and 
your  ma  needn’t  act  so  high  and  mighty  even  though 
you  have  got  a  rich  relation  cornin’  to  visit  you. 

Mary  Anne.  ( On  verge  of  tears,  c.,  by  mantel ) 
Have  you — been  paid  for  the — hat? 

Miss  Simmonds.  Yes,  I  have,  and  though  I  do 
say  it  myself,  I  think  $4.75  is  little  enough  to  charge 
for  such  an  unusual  creation  as  that  is !  ( She  exits 

l.  Mary  Anne  stands  c.  by  fireplace,  dejected .) 

(Betsy  enters  through  door  r.  She  has  the  hired 
man's  new  boots  in  her  hand.  She  carries  them 
over  and  carefully  places  them  on  the  organ  r. 
Laughs  sentimentally,  then  turns  and  sees  Mary 
Anne.J 

Mary  Anne.  What  is  it,  Betsy? 

Betsy.  Ain’t  you  feelin’  good,  Mary  Anne? 

POUNDING. 

Mary  Anne.  (Tries  to  smile)  Just  a  little  tired, 

I  think. 

(From  kitchen  off  r.  comes  the  sound  of  pounding. 
Betsy  listens,  then  goes  to  door  r.  and  looks 

off-) 


1 6 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Betsy.  Your  ma’s  whoppin’  mad  about  some¬ 
thin’  an’  she’s  takin‘  it  out  on  the  dough.  ( A  motor 
horn  is  heard  off  l.)  Maybe  that’s  your  aunt  now. 

Mary  Anne.  ( Goes  to  window  l.)  Yes,  I’m 
sure  it  is.  It’s  Aunt  Maria.  Tell  mother,  Betsy! 

Betsy.  Yes,  ’um.  (Calls)  Mrs.  Simmonds! 
Here’s  the  automobile.  It’s  your  sister!  (Exits 
off  R.J 

(Mary  Anne  stands  at  the  door  a  moment,  then 
waves  her  hand  to  the  car,  zvhich  comes  nearer , 
then  she  rims  across  the  porch  and  exits  l. 
Mrs.  Simmonds  comes  in  r.  with  Betsy.  She 
wipes  flour  off  hands  on  her  apron.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Land  sakes,  and  me  all  over 
flour !  Run  out  and  help  her  with  the  things,  Betsy. 
( Gives  Betsy  a  gentle  shove  toward  the  window  l. 
and  follows,  dusting  herself.)  Hurry,  girl!  Don’t 
be  slow !  Hurry ! 

(Betsy  exits  zvindow  l.,  followed  by  Mrs.  Sim¬ 
monds.  Outside  Mary  Anne  is  heard  in 
greeting.) 

Mary  Anne.  Aunt  Maria!  Oh,  I’m  so  glad  to 
see  you ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  And  I  you,  my  dear! 

(There  are  other  ad  lib.  greetings  from  Mrs.  Sim¬ 
monds.  Mary  Anne  and  Mrs.  Kirkland 
enter  l.  and  go  r.  Mrs.  Simmonds  folloivs.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Land  sakes,  Maria,  you  grow 
younger  every  time  I  see  you.  Make  yourself  right 
at  home.  I’ll  have  everything  brought  in.  (Calls 
out  l.  as  she  stands  at  the  window)  Betsy,  bring 


Golden  Days”  See  page  19 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


17 


those  things  into  the  house.  .  (Turns  to  her  sister) 
You  don’t  know  how  we’ve  looked  forward  to  your 
cornin’ ! 

(Betsy  enters  l.  with  golf -bag  and  hand-bags. 
Felice,  Mrs.  Kirkland’s  maid ,  follows  with 
shawl-strap .) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Betsy,  help  Mrs.  Kirkland  with 
her  grips.  How  do  you  do,  Felice? 

(Mary  Anne  has  taken  her  aunt's  coat  and  now 
hands  it  to  Betsy  as  she  comes  over  above  c.) 

Felice.  (To  Mrs.  SimmondsJ  Well,  thank  you, 
Madame. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Betsy,  show  Felice  where  the 
rooms  are  and  where  to  put  their  things. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Just  the  same  sweet  Mary 
Anne,  only  sweeter. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  There,  Maria,  beginnin’  to  spoil 
her  before  you’re  here  two  seconds! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Has  observed  the  flowers 
about  the  room;  now  goes  to  the  organ  r.  and 
touches  the  lilacs.)  For  me,  Mary  Anne? 

Mary  Anne.  (At  r.c.J  You  see  I  remembered. 
Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Smells  them)  Um  .  .  .  the 
dear  old-fashioned  things!  (Betsy  and  Felice  go 
to  c.  Sees  the  boots  and  picks  them  up,  laughing.) 
What  are  they,  Amanda?  Antiques? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Following  her  gaze,  crosses 
to  Mrs.  Kirkland  and  takes  the  boots  up  to  Betsy.  J 
Land  sakes!  if  that  girl  didn’t  literally  take  me  at 
my  word.  Betsy,  has  the  hired  man  gone  down  to 
the  pasture  without  his  boots?  (Over  to  Betsy. ) 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  goes  to  Mary  Anne.  Both  stand 
up  l.c.,  zvatching  Mrs.  Simmonds  and  Betsy. ) 


i8 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Betsy.  Well,  you  told  me - 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Never  mind  what  I  told  you. 
Maybe  he  isn’t  gone  yet.  Take  ’em  out  to  him-— he 
might  run  a  thorn  in  his  foot  and  get  lockjaw. 
Betsy.  I  think  he’s  already  got  it. 

TRUNK  ready  l. 

(Betsy  takes  the  boots  tenderly  and  exits  r.  with 
Felice.  Mrs.  Simmonds  goes  down  r.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  ( Sits  l.  of  table  r.c.)  Well, 
thank  goodness,  I’m  here !  And  now  for  a  rest  and 
a  little  real  country  life.  Sometimes  I  envy  you, 
Amanda.  (Mary  Anne  sits  on  arm  of  Mrs. 
Kirkland’s  chair.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  You  wouldn’t  long,  when  you’d 
see  all  the  work  that’s  to  be  done. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  What’s  the  explanation  of  all 
those  tables  on  the  porch  ?  An  outdoor  church  sup¬ 
per  ? 

Mary  Anne.  Why,  Aunty,  didn’t  you  see  the 
sign,  “Tea  Room,”  on  the  post? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Tea  Room?  Why,  you  don’t 

mean  to  say,  Amanda - 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Well,  so  many  automobile 
tourists  got  in  the  habit  of  askin’  for  one  thing  and 

another — we  thought  we  might  as  well - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Amanda,  I’m  ashamed  of  you. 
Here  I  am  with  all  my  money  and  not  a  chick  nor  a 
child!  If  it  weren’t  for  that  old-fashioned  pride  of 
yours - 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Land  sakes,  can’t  a  body - 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  it’s  lots  of  fun,  Auntie. 

(There  is  a  sound  off  l.  as  of  a  trunk  being  dumped 
on  the  porch.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


19 


Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Looking  l.)  What’s  that? 

Mary  Anne.  (Moves  up,  looking  off  l.)  It’s 
your  trunk,  Auntie.  Your  chauffeur  just  brought 
it  onto  the  porch. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  My  what? 

(Mrs.  Simmonds  crosses  at  back  of  table  l.) 

Mary  Anne.  Your  chauffeur. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  My  chauffeur!  (Laughs.  Mary 
Anne  returns  to  c.)  Good  heavens,  I’d  almost  for¬ 
gotten  him!  (She  rises  and  calls  off  l.  humorously) 
Oh!  Bring  it  in  here,  Watkins.  (Richard  Stan¬ 
hope,  son  of  one  of  New  York's  multi-millionaires, 
a  tall,  athletic  youth  with  a  wonderful  sense  of  hu¬ 
mor,  a  quality  which  Mrs.  Kirkland  admires  and 
shares  with  him,  enters  the  room  through  door  L. 
with  the  auto  trunk  on  his  shoulders.)  Place  it 
there,  Watkins. 

Dick.  (Mystified)  What’s  the  “Watkins”  idea? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Mrs.  Simmonds)  Aman¬ 
da,  this  is  Watkins,  my  chauffeur.  ( She  laughs 
again  heartily.  Dick  grins.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Looks  at  him  critically)  Pretty 
well  dressed  for  a  chauffeur. 

Mary  Anne.  (Pause,  a  trifle  embarrassed ) 
Aunty,  you’re  joking.  He  isn’t  your  chauffeur. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Laughs)  This  is  Richard  Stan¬ 
hope,  of  New  York — (He  shakes  hands  with  Mary 
Anne) — who  picked  me  up  about  twenty  miles 
from  here  when  I  got  stuck  in  a  frost  hole.  (Dick 
puts  trunk  down.  Laughs.)  This  hero  brought  us 
bag  and  baggage  into  town.  This  is  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Simmonds - 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Crosses  to  c.)  I’m  pleased 
to  meet  you.  (Dick  shakes  hands.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  And  my  niece,  Mary  Anne. 


20 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Dick.  (Rather  diffidently)  Yes — we  have— 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  was  going  to  tell  you  to  take 
the  trunk  upstairs,  but  now  I’ll  wait  till  the  hired 
man  comes  back. 

Dick.  Hired  man?  Why,  he  can’t  touch  me  as  a 
baggage-smasher.  I  could  wreck  all  four  corners  at 
once.  (He  picks  up  trunk  and  swings  it  to  his 
shoulder.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Laughing)  Well,  seeing  that 
you’re  bent  on  it.  Mary  Anne,  show  Mr.  Stanhope 
the  front  room. 

(Mary  Anne  goes  over  to  r.  entrance ,  followed  by 
Dick.) 

Mary  Anne.  (To  Dick)  Funny — my  calling 
you  a  chauffeur! 

Dick.  Oh,  that’s  all  right.  I’ve  been  called  lots 
worse  names  than  that. 

(Mary  Anne  smiles  and  holds  the  door  open  r. 

They  exit.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  r.  of  table  r.)  He  seems 
a  nice  boy. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Laughing.  Crosses  to  table  r.) 
Just  as  nice  as  though  his  father  weren’t  worth  mil¬ 
lions  and  millions ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Is  he  with  that  crowd  that  are 
giving  the  dance  at  the  hotel  to-night? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  think  he  did  speak  about  it. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  They  advertise  the  new  hotel 
as  “the  last  word  in  sumptuousness.” 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Farmdale  needed  to  improve 
on  the  old  one.  ( Crosses  to  r.,  sitting  l.  of  table.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Sitting  r.  of  table)  It's  Jim 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


21 


Barclay's  money  that  built  it.  You  remember  the 
Barclays,  don’t  you? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh,  yes.  The  Barclays  have 
made  a  lot  of  money  in  munitions  and  shipping  in  the 
past  two  years.  Farmdale  is  a  little  too  small  for 
them  now,  I  understand. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Yes,  and  there’s  an  old  sayin’ 
that  some  folks  can’t  stand  prosperity. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Has  it  affected  them  much? 

(Enter  Mary  Anne  and  Dick  r.J 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Some.  Especially  their  son. 

Dick.  (c.  Mary  Anne  at  table  l.  To  Mrs. 
Kirkland)  Any  further  orders,  ma’am? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Laughing)  No,  I  think  that 
will  be  all.  Dickie,  you’re  a  darling!  Are  you 
going  back  to-night? 

Dick.  No,  not  to-night.  There’s  a  little  dance 
on  at  the  hotel  and  Billy’s  brought  a  crowd  out  from 
town. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Yes,  so  we  heard. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Thank  you,  Dickie. 

Dick.  Not  at  all.  (With  dignity.)  I’m  very 
glad  to  have  met  you,  Mrs.  Simmonds,  and — (A 
resumption  of  the  boyish  manner) — and  you,  too. 
(This  last  to  Mary  Anne.  Dick  crosses  and  exits 
off  L.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  c.)  There,  I  might  have 
asked  him  to  have  a  cup  of  tea ! 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  dear,  why  didn’t  you?  (To 
window.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  I’ll  have  some,  Amanda. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  entrance  r.  3J  I  can  have 
it  ready  in  a  minute. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Not  here.  (Rises.  Mary  Anne 


22 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


goes  to  Aunt  Kirkland)  Let’s  go  out  in  the 
kitchen  and  I’ll  help  make  it. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (As  they  all  move  to  r.)  Now, 
Maria,  you  never  will  let  me  wait  on  you. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  No,  and  never  will.  I’m  here 
to  wait  on  myself.  (Exit  Mrs.  Simmonds.)  Come 
on,  Mary  Anne.  It  was  sweet  of  you  to  pick  all 
these  lilacs  for  me,  and  I  love  them. 

Mary  Anne.  (As  they  walk  to  door  r.)  The 
yard’s  just  full  of  them,  Aunty.  Wait  till  you  see, 
and  a  fine  bed  of  tulips — and  the  nasturtiums  are 
coming  along,  too;  they’ll  be  blooming  in  another 
week.  (They  exit  r.,  closing  the  door.) 

(After  a  brief  pause  Trella  Webb  enters  the  r<juin- 
dow  l.  She  comes  into  the  room,  looking  about 
curiously.  Elaine  Jewett  follows,  looking 
back.  They  are  both  ultra  fashionable  girls, 
about  1 7  and  18.) 

Trella.  I’m  perishing  for  a  cup  of  tea. 

Elaine.  (At  window)  I  wonder  who  that  boy 
was?  Looked  a  little  like  Dickie  Stanhope. 

Trella.  (Goes  to  c.)  Well,  he’s  coming  to  the 
dance,  you  know. 

Elaine.  But  what’s  he  doing  here? 

Trella.  I  don’t  know.  It  says  “Tea  Room”  on 
the  sign  post  out  there.  (Looks  around.)  Doesn’t 
seem  to  be  any  one  around. 

Elaine.  Isn’t  there  a  bell  or  anything  ?  ( Crosses 
to  R.) 

Trella.  Maybe  this  is  it.  (Pulls  an  old-fashioned 
bell-cord  at  L.  of  the  fireplace  and  goes  down  L.) 

Elaine.  (Goes  r.  of  c.)  I  wonder  if  this  is  the 
girl. 

Trella.  This  is  where  Billy  said  she  lived. 

Elaine,  (c.)  I  feel  almost  silty  coming  here 


GOLDEN  DAYS  23 

like  this,  but  I’ve  been  crazy  to  see  what  she  looked 

like.  Of  course  I’m  not  jealous,  but - 

Trella.  Well,  I  should  say  not.  Billy’s  taken 
you  to  every  dance  for  the  last  year.  You  should 
worry ! 


(Mary  Anne  enters  r.) 

Mary  Anne.  I  beg  your  pardon.  The  tables 
are  on  the  porch. 

Elaine.  Goodness,  it’s  the  little  girl  I  met  two 
summers  ago.  Please  excuse  us  for  walking  in 
like  this,  but  the  sign  said,  “Tea  Room,”  and - 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  that’s  all  right.  How  do  you 
do?  I - 

Elaine.  Can  you  bring  us  some  tea? 

Mary  Anne.  I’ll  call  Betsy.  (Sees  her  hat  on 
the  table  r.  and  takes  it  up.) 

Elaine.  Well,  please  come  back  yourself.  I’d 
like  to  speak  with  you. 

Mary  Anne.  Me?  (Pauses  a  moment  in  sur¬ 
prise.)  Oh,  yes,  certainly.  (She  exits  r.J 

Trella.  She’s  rather  pretty. 

Elaine.  ( Goes  c.)  In  her  simple  way,  yes.  Let 
me  talk  to  her  alone,  will  you? 

Trella.  (Eagerly)  What  are  you  going  to  say? 

Elaine.  I  want  to  find  out  for  sure  about  Billy. 

Trella.  Now,  Elaine,  you  don’t  really  think  he’d 
prefer - 

Elaine.  Then  what’s  he  coming  to  this  house 
for? 

Trella.  He  used  to  live  in  Farmdale.  They 
went  to  school  together.  Naturally  he  must  say 
how  do  you  do  to  some  of  his  old  friends. 

Elaine.  He  doesn’t  speak  of  her  like  that, 
though.  She  was  more  than  a  friend.  She  was - 


24  GOLDEN  DAYS 

(Mary  Anne  enters  r.) 

Mary  Anne.  Tea  will  be  here  in  a  moment. 
Elaine.  Thank  you.  I  have  forgotten  your 

name.  I  meet  so  many  people,  Miss — Miss - 

Mary  Anne.  (Almost  comically  formal)  Mary 
Anne  Simmonds. 

(Trella  snickers  out  loud  and  to  cover  it  moves 
down  l.  towards  the  zvindow.) 

Elaine.  Trella,  that  hammock  looks  comfortable 
and  cozy,  till  tea  is  ready.  Suppose  you  try  it. 
(Trella  exits  l.,  smiling.  Elaine  turns  to  Mary 
Anne,)  Come  and  sit  down.  I  want  to  ask  you 
something. 

(Mary  Anne  goes  and  sits  l.  with  Elaine.  Elaine 
is  beautifully  gowned  in  marked  contrast  to 
Mary  AnneJ 

Mary  Anne.  ( r .  of  table  l'.  With  dignity) 
Well,  what  was  it  you  wanted  to  ask  me,  Miss 
Jewett? 

Elaine.  ( l.  of  table  l.)  Mm — you  remembered 
my  name? 

Mary  Anne.  It  hasn’t  been  so  long  since  you 
were  here,  and  then  Eve  heard  your  name  quite 
often  since. 

Elaine.  Since  when? 

Mary  Anne.  Since  I  heard  you  were  coming  to 
spend  the  summer  in  the  Barclay  cottage. 

Elaine.  (Carelessly)  Oh,  that’s  right!  That’s 
just  what  I  wanted  to  inquire  about.  You — know 
Billy  Barclay,  don’t  you? 

Mary  Anne.  Yes — of  course.  We  used  to  go 
to  school  together.  I’ve  known  him  all  my  life. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


25 


Elaine.  How  interesting !  Somehow  I  imagined 
you  were  just  the  one  who  could  tell  me  the  things 
IVe  wondered  about,  and  sure  enough  you  are! 
(Takes  vanity  bag  off  her  wrist ,  looks  in  mirror, 
and  starts  to  powder  her  nose.)  Wasn’t  there  some 
little  country  girl  around  here  Billy  thought  he  was 
in  love  with? 

Mary  Anne.  (A  little  coldly)  Why  do  you  wish 
to  know  that,  Miss  Jewett? 

Elaine.  Well,  naturally,  before  a  girl  makes  up 
her  mind  to  accept  a  young  man -  ( Shrugs.) 

Mary  Anne.  (In  low  voice)  Oh,  I  understand! 
Yes,  I  believe  there  was — a  girl. 

Elaine.  A  girl  who  thought  he  was  fond  of  her? 

Mary  Anne.  Yes,  who  thought  he  was  fond  of 
her ;  but  she  knows  better  now.  She  hasn’t  any  hold 
on  him.  There’ll  never  be  any  reproaches.  That’s 
what  you 'wanted  to  feel  sure  of,  isn’t  it? 

Elaine.  Of  course.  I’m  awfully  curious  about 
her,  somehow.  You  must  have  known  her — what 
kind  of  a  girl  was  she? 

Mary  Anne.  (With  dignity)  She  was  just  like 
other  girls. 

Elaine.  And  I  suppose  she  believed  every  word 
he  said  to  her — poor  little  thing ! 

Mary  Anne.  She  did  believe  every  word — as  if 
it  were  the  gospel  truth,  but  she’s  not  a  poor  little 
thing.  And  she’s  much  too  sensible  to  let  any  boy 
make  her  unhappy. 

Elaine.  Do  tell  me  what  became  of  her. 

Mary  Anne.  Why — nothing.  She’s  living  right 
near  here  and  she’s — perfectly  happy. 

Elaine.  Oh,  come  now!  A  boy  with  Billy’s 
money  isn’t  picked  up  every  day. 

Mary  Anne.  She  never  thought  of  his  money, 
not  once.  Besides,  when  they  were  engaged,  he 
didn’t  have  a  penny,  he - 


26  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Elaine.  Oh,  but  why  should  you  get  excited 
over  it? 

Mary  Anne.  (Trying  to  regain  her  poise)  It 
— it’s  natural.  She  was  quite  a  good  friend  of  mine. 
Elaine.  Was  she  ? 

Mary  Anne.  (Looking  for  a  chance  to  escape, 
rises)  Yes,  I’ll  hurry  Betsy  with  the  tea. 

Elaine.  Make  it  for  three.  Billy  Barclay  is  go¬ 
ing  to  join  us  here  in  a  few  minutes.  (Face  to  audi¬ 
ence.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Joyfully)  Coming  here?  Billy? 
Elaine.  Yes.  You  have  no  objections,  I  hope? 

READY  horn. 

Mary  Anne.  Why — yes — no — why  should  I? 
Of  course  not.  (Exits  r.J 

(Elaine  rises.  Trella  enters  from  l.  upper  win¬ 
dow.) 


Trella.  Well? 

Elaine.  (Whispering)  She's  the  one,  all  right. 
And  he  called  her  a  rose! 

Trella.  Tea  rose,  he  must  have  meant.  (Trella 
laughs  loudly.  Betsy  enters  zvith  tea-tray,  service 
for  three  and  biscuits.  Trella  looks  at  her  l.J 
Goodness!  What’s  this? 

Betsy,  (c.)  Tea. 

Elaine.  (Steps  up  stage.  Points  rJ  Serve  it 
there. 

Betsy.  Ain’t  going  to  have  it  in  here,  are  you  ? 

Elaine.  Why  not  ? 

Betsy.  Cause  the  tea  tables  is  all  on  the  porch. 

Elaine.  (At  mantel)  But  we  prefer  it  here. 
(They  pause,  looking  at  each  other.  Trella  goes 
r.  to  mantel.  Betsy  to  table  r.J 

Betsy.  (After  a  pause)  Going  to  eat  it  standir.’ 
up  or  sittin’  down? 


GOLDEN  DAYS  27 

Trella.  ( Laughs )  Isn’t  she  funny?  (Crosses 
and  sits  R.  of  table  R.J 

HORN. 

Betsy.  He  drinks  tea  when  there  ain’t  any  cof¬ 
fee. 

Trella.  He?  Who? 

Betsy.  The  hired  man. 

Elaine.  (Crosses  to  window  l.  to  Trella j  I 
think  he’s  coming. 

Betsy.  No’m,  he  ain’t.  He’s  down  to  the  pas¬ 
ture. 

Elaine.  Who?  (Coming  back  to  table)  What 
in  the  world  is  the  girl  talking  about? 

Betsy.  I  thought  you  was  talkin’  about  the  hired 
man.  (Elaine  sits.  Betsy  works  above  table.) 

Elaine.  I  haven’t  the  honor  of  any  hired  man’s 
acquaintance. 

Betsy.  He’d  just  as  soon  be  introduced. 

Elaine.  Good  heavens !  (Trella  laughs  at 
Betsy’s  advances.) 

Betsy.  Mary  Anne  told  me  to  ask  you  if  there 
was  anything  else  you  wanted. 

Elaine.  ( l.  of  table  r.)  No,  thank  you.  (Pours 
tea.  Elaine  thinks  she  will  get  rid  of  her.)  You’d 
better  go  back  to  the  kitchen.  I  think  I  smell  some¬ 
thing  burning. 

Betsy.  Mebbe  it’s  that  cake  I’m  bakin’  for  din¬ 
ner.  (To  r.  to  door  slowly.)  Ain’t  that  too  bad. 
after  all  my  work?  What’s  the  use  of  bakin’  and 
bakin’ -  (Betsy  exits  r.J 

Trella.  Isn’t  she  a  joke?  (Looks  at  food.) 
But  I  must  say  these  biscuits  look  good. 

(Lloyd  enters  l.J 

Lloyd.  (Calling  off  l.)  Come  on,  Billy,  here 
they  are! 


28  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Trella.  (Playfully)  You  are  just  in  time,  but 
not  expected. 


(Barclay  enters  l.) 

Lloyd.  ( Back  of  the  table  r.,  goes  to  organ  stool 
r.  Sits)  Awfully  far  up  here. 

Elaine.  We  have  only  three  cups. 

Billy.  (To  c.)  I  don’t  want  any. 

Lloyd.  Well,  I  do.  Tea’s  kind  of  stimulating, 
isn’t  it? 

Billy.  (To  the  girls)  See  Mary  Anne  yet? 

Elaine.  She  was  here  a  while  ago. 

Billy.  Did  you  tell  her  I  was  coming? 

Elaine.  Yes,  and  she  ran  away. 

Billy.  Ran  away?  What  for?  (Elaine  shrugs 
as  if  puzzled.) 

Lloyd.  Maybe  she  heard  that  necktie  coming, 
Billy.  (The  girls  laugh.) 

Billy.  Hum !  It  will  seem  a  little  strange  to 
meet  her  again.  (He  goes  up  and  pulls  bell-cord  l. 
of  fireplace.  Trella  takes  her  cup  of  tea  and 
crosses  to  l.  of  table  l.  and  sits.) 

Elaine.  Oh,  you  really  expect  to  meet  her?  You 
meant  it? 

Billy.  Naturally,  of  course.  Why?  Doesn’t 
she  want  to  see  me  ? 

Elaine.  (Shrugs  her  shoulders)  She  didn’t  say. 

Billy.  (Walking  about  at  back)  The  old  house 
looks  just  the  same.  There’s  the  old  fireplace  and 
the  organ.  (He  works  around  easily  up  and  down 
c.  ad  lib.) 

Lloyd.  The  country  kind.  Two  teeth  out  and  a 
squeak,  I’ll  bet!  (He  is  sitting  on  organ  stool  r.) 

Elaine.  (To  Billy,  laughing  sarcastically) 
Where  she  used  to  sing  “Sweet  Genevieve.” 

Trella.  (Laughing)  No.  (Sings)  “Where  is 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


29 

my  wand’ ring  boy  to-night?  (All  loofi  at  Billy  and 
laugh.) 

Billy.  Aw,  cut  it  out!  If  you  want  to  know 

just  what  it  was -  (Crosses  to  c.)  It  was  “In 

the  gloaming,”  and  Mary  Anne  could  sing  it,  too. 
Elaine.  ( Coldly )  I  suppose  so ! 

Trella.  Can  she  play  the  ukulele? 

Billy.  Couldn’t  then.  What’s  the  difference? 
Lloyd.  (Dozm  r.)  Is  she  pretty? 

Billy.  She  used  to  be — eyes  like  violets. 

Elaine.  (Pettishly)  If  you  want  to  see  the 
violet  eyes  again,  you’ll  probably  find  them  in  the 
kitchen,  gazing  into  the  flour-bin.  (Others  laugh.) 
Billy.  Well,  we  used  to  have  some  good  times 

in  that  old  kitchen,  making  fudge  and - 

Lloyd.  Oh!  Fudge!  (The  girls  laugh.) 

Billy.  Oh,  stop  kidding.  (Looks  about.)  It’s 
the  real  country  out  here,  isn’t  it? 

(The  general  idea,  of  this  scene  is  that  the  boys  and 
girls  “kid”  Billy  so  much  that  he  loses  his 
nerve  and  zvhen  he  meets  Mary  Anne  a  little 
later  is  more  than  embarrassed.) 

Lloyd.  I  should  say  so.  Even  now  I  can  smell 
the  sweet  breath  of  the  new-mown  potatoes. 

Trella.  (c.l.)  Methinks  I  hear  the  mosquitoes 
crowing. 

Billy.  Stop  your  kidding! 

(Betsy  opens  the  door  rJ 

Betsy.  Yes,  sir. 

Billy.  Mary  Anne  at  home? 

Betsy.  (Lazily)  Yes,  she’s  puttin’  on  her  new 
dress. 


30  GOLDEN  DAYS 

(Trella  and  Elaine  giggle  at  this  information.) 


Billy.  Tell  her  to  come  down  as  soon  as  she 
can. 

Betsy.  Yes,  sir.  ( She  exits  R.j 
(Billy  comes  dozvn.) 

Elaine.  (Uppishly)  All  in  your  honor. 

(Lloyd  pays  check  on  table  r.  and  goes  l.  up.) 
Billy.  What  ? 

Elaine.  The  change  of  costume. 

Billy.  Absurd !  I  wish  she’d  hurry  up.  I’m 
late  about  it  now. 

Elaine.  “Late?”  What  are  you  going  to  do? 
Billy.  Ask  her  to  come  to  the  party  to-night. 
Elaine.  With  us? 

Billy.  Of  course. 

Elaine.  You’re  crazy. 

(Trella  rises  l.  Leaves  her  cup  on  the  table  l.) 
Billy.  Why  so? 

Elaine.  Why,  she — she  simply  doesn’t  belong. 
I’m  sure  I  can’t  be  friends  with  a  girl  like  that — as 
if  she  were  one  of  us. 

Billy.  “One  of  us”?  I’ll  be  blessed  if  I  know 
what  you’re  driving  at,  Elaine. 

Elaine.  Why,  she’s  waiting  on  the  table  here! 
Billy.  (Looks  around)  Why,  what  is  this? 
Trella.  (To  c.)  They’re  running  a  tea  shop — 

Billy.  Are  they?  Well - 

Elaine.  Don’t  be  silly.  It’s  out  of  the  question. 
Trella.  She’s  a  “Jay,”  my  boy.  Wait  till  you 
see  her  again.  (Trella  goes  up  l.  to  Lloyd.  They 
look  at  the  relics  in  cabinet  l.  and  laugh.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


3i 


Billy.  Why,  she  used  to  be  a  peach ! 

Elaine.  (Delivering  an  ultimatum)  Well,  if 
she  goes,  I  don’t.  (Rises  and  goes  l.) 

Billy.  Aw — wait!  Elaine!  (Crosses  to  l.)  If 
you  think  I’d  better  not,  of  course  I - 

Elaine.  Why,  it’s  only  for  her  own  good !  The 
poor  thing  wears  the  most  atrocious  dresses.  She’d 
feel  awfully  out  of  place. 

Billy.  Well,  if  you  really  think  so - - 

(The  door  r.  opens  and  Mary  Anne  appears  in  her 
new  dress,  which  is  a  trifle  country,  though  not 
exaggerated,  and  with  the  terrible  Slissy  mil¬ 
linery  creation  on  her  head.) 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  I  thought  the  others  had — I 
didn’t  mean  to  keep  you  waiting. 

Billy.  ( Going  to  her  awkwardly,  afraid  of  the 
others)  Hello,  Mary  Anne!  (Shakes  hands.  Billy 
and  Mary  Anne  stand  at  c.,  the  others  grouped 
down  L.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Shyly)  I  was  afraid  you  had 
forgotten  me — Mr.  Barclay. 

Billy.  (Stammers)  Well,  hardly - 

Trella.  (Aside  to  Elaine )  Isn’t  that  dress 
the  funniest - 

Elaine.  (Giggling  with  her)  Sh! - 

("Billy  looks  around  at  them,  annoyed.) 

Billy.  (To  Mary  Anne,  embarrassed)  Er — 
how  is  your  mother?  (He  is  glad  to  see  Mary  Anne 
in  spite  of  himself.) 

Mary  Anne.  My  mother?  (Not  knowing  ex¬ 
actly  what  she  is  saying.)  She’s  all  right — how’s 
yours — and  everything? 

Billy.  Fine ! 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


32 


Trella.  (To  Elaine,  aside)  Did  you  ever  see 
such  a  hat?  (Elaine  motions  her  to  be  silent .) 

Billy.  ( Confused,  turns,  looking  at  the  others, 
then  back  to  Mary  Anne.  His  embarrassment  is 
growing.)  The  old  place  looks  just  the  same  as 
it  always  did. 

Mary  Anne.  Yes,  just  the  same. 

Billy.  Do  the  Westgates  still  live  across  the 
street  ? 

Mary  Anne.  ( With  animation)  Yes.  Charlie 
Westgate’s  accepted  a  position  with  his  uncle  in 
Bridgeport,  Edna’s  still  here.  One  of  the  twins  has 

had  the  measles -  (Trella  giggles.  Mary 

Anne  gives  slight  start  and  looks  at  her.)  But  they 
— he — she.  I  mean,  is  better  now. 

(Trella  and  Lloyd  suppress  laughter.  Mary  Anne 
stares  across  at  them.  She  is  beginning  to  feel 
that  they  are  guying  her.) 

Billy.  (Frowns  at  the  others)  Seems  awfully 
good  to  see  you  again,  Mary  Anne. 

Mary  Anne.  (Happily,  her  mind  on  Billy 
again)  Yes,  doesn’t  it? 

Billy.  What’s  become  of  your  friend,  Fanny 
Merton? 

Mary  Anne.  She’s  not  here  any  more.  Fanny 
went  to  New  York  a  year  ago.  Her  father  died 
and  she  and  her  mother  went  into  the  Salvation 
Army. 

(Trella  laughs.  Mary  Anne  stops  short.) 

Elaine.  (With  air  of  restrained  amusement) 
We’ll  wait  for  you  in  the  car,  Billy! 

Billy.  (Quickly,  to  ElaineJ  I’m  coming  right 
along.  (Goes  halfway  to  door.)  Well,  good-bye. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


33 


Mary  Anne.  I’ll  see  you  again  before  I  go  back  to 
New  York — maybe. 

(Dick  Stanhope  enters  the  door  l.  He  carries 
Mrs.  Kirkland's  small  silk  hand-bag.) 

Dick.  Hello,  People ! 

(Trella  and  Lloyd,  Elaine  and  Billy  are  all  l. 
Dick  enters  below  them.) 

Elaine.  Hello,  Dick !  What  are  you  doing 
here  ? 

Trella.  I  thought  I  saw  you  a  while  ago,  Dickie. 

(Dick  goes  across  to  Mary  Anne.) 

Dick.  (To  Mary  Anne)  Where’s  “Auntie 
Kirk”?  (Holds  up  hand-bag.)  She  left  all  her 
wealth  in  the  car. 

Mary  Anne.  (Almost  in  tears)  She’s  in  back 
with  mother.  Here,  I’ll  show  you.  (She  opens  the 
door  r.  and  she  and  Dick  exit.  The  others  stare 
after  them  in  amazement.  Billy  to  c.) 

Elaine.  (Questioningly)  Who’s  Auntie  Kirk? 
Lloyd.  Has  he  an  aunt  by  that  name? 

Billy.  That’s  funny ! 

Trella.  I  never  heard  of  her. 

Elaine.  (Crosses  to  window)  Come  on,  I’ve 
had  enough  of  this  place! 

Trella.  Did  anybody  pay  the  check? 

Lloyd.  Yes,  I  did. 

Trella.  Good  for  you!  (They  stroll  off  l.) 
Lloyd.  Oh,  look !  There’s  a  hammock ! 

Billy.  I  say — Dick  Stanhope  acts  very  much  at 
home  round  here.  I  wonder  why? 


34 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Elaine.  I’m  sure  I  don’t  know,  and  care  less. 
Come  on,  Billy.  (They  exeunt.) 

(Mrs.  Simmonds  enters  r.,  followed  by  Betsy. 
Mrs.  Simmonds  takes  money  on  table  R.  and 
goes  l.  Betsy  stops  at  table  r.J 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I’m  not  objectin’  to  trade — 
except  when  it’s  trade  you  aren’t  looking  for,  and 
don’t  want ;  then  it’s  upsetting. 

Betsy.  Yes,  um. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  l.J  I  wonder  what  that 
Jewett  girl  wanted  to  come  up  here  for  after  what 
Miss  Slissy  told  us  about  her? 

Betsy.  What  did  Miss  Slissy  tell  you? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Looking  out  of  window) 
I’m  not  talking  to  you,  Betsy.  I  was  talking  to  my¬ 
self.  Take  away  these  tea  things. 

(Betsy  gathers  them  up  slowly,  taking  the  tray  from 
table  r.,  under  telephone.  Mrs.  Kirkland 
and  Mary  Anne  enter  r.  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land  has  her  arm  about  Mary  Anne,  who  is 
crying.  Mrs.  Kirkland  brings  Mary  Anne 
dozvn  r.c.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Now,  Mary  Anne,  you  tell  me 
what’s  troubling  you.  Amanda,  I  found  her  cry¬ 
ing! 

Mary  Anne.  (Sobbing)  It  isn’t  anything  at  all. 
Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Crosses  and  takes  Mary 
Anne  in  her  arms)  I  think  it  was  that  Jewett  girl 
cornin’  here  that  upset  her. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Elaine  Jewett? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Yes,  and  Billy  Barclay,  too. 
Mary  Anne.  Mumsey,  dear,  please  let’s  not  talk 
about  Billy  any  more. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


35 


Mrs.  Simmonds.  Well,  Miss  Slissy - 

Mary  Anne.  Miss  Slissy  is  the  worst  gossip  in 
the  neighborhood.  She’ll  repeat  what  you  said , 
everywhere. 

(Betsy  works  over  to  L.  Picks  up  Trella’s  tea¬ 
cup  and  returns  to  table  at  R.J 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Billy  Barclay?  And  Elaine 
Jewett?  Mary  Anne,  what’s  all  this  about  Billy 
Barclay?  Are  you  crying  on  account  of  him? 
(Mary  Anne  nods,  still  sobbing.)  What! 

Mary  Anne.  I  was  engaged  to  Billy  Barclay 
once. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Why,  you  never  told  me. 
When? 

Mary  Anne.  Last  summer.  We  promised  each 
other  we  wouldn’t  tell  any  one,  for  a  while. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  imagine,  since  then,  he’s  got 
it  into  his  head  that  Mary  Anne’s  beneath  him. 

Mary  Anne.  No,  Mother,  I’m  sure  it  isn’t  that. 
(To  Mrs.  KirklandJ  Something  happened.  He 
stopped  writing.  I  don’t  know  why.  And  when  he 
was  here  just  now -  (She  sobs  and  goes  to  or¬ 

gan  R.J 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You  mean  to  tell  me,  Amanda, 
that  Billy  Barclay  has  had  the  effrontery  to  jilt  my 
niece  ? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  You  forget,  Maria,  he  is  the 
son  of  James  Barclay  now. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  don’t  care  who  he  is.  I  re¬ 
sent  it!  (Pause.)  But  why  should  he  have  come 

here  if -  (A  step  toward  Mary  Anne  behind 

table.) 

Betsy.  ( Comes  c.)  He  came  to  ask  Mary  Anne 
to  go  to  the  party  to-night,  but  the  others  wouldn’t 
let  him. 


36 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mrs.  Simmonds.  Wouldn’t  let  him  ?  (To  Betsy ) 
How  do  you  know  ? 

Betsy.  I  was  listenin’,  (Looks  at  door.)  And 
I  heard  ’em  talkin’ ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  What  did  they  say? 

Betsy.  That  Jewett  girl  said  if  Mary  Anne  went 
to  the  party,  she  wouldn’t,  ’cause  she  was  waiting 
on  the  table  here — and  that  was  a  lie,  ’cause  I  was 
doing  it  myself. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Boiling)  Well,  of  all  things! 

Betsy.  And  she  made  fun  of  Mary  Anne’s  dress. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh,  she  did,  did  she.  (Crosses 
to  l.,  looking  out  of  window.) 

Betsy.  And  of  her  hat. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  That’ll  do,  Betsy — that’ll  do. 

(Betsy  picks  up  tray  and  exits  r.) 

Mary  Anne.  I  realize  now  how  countrified  I  am. 
Until  I  saw  Elaine  I  thought  my  dress  was  rather 
pretty,  but  I  never  did  like  this  Slissy  hat.  (Takes 
it  off  and  holds  it  at  arm's  length.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Crosses  r.  to  Mary  Anne. 
Takes  hat.)  Miss  Slissy  should  get  twenty  years 
for  making  that  monstrosity.  (Throws  hat  up  stage , 
points  to  Mary  Anne’s  sash.)  And  take  that  “cur¬ 
few  shall  not  ring  to-night”  thing  from  ’round  your 
waist.  (Catches  end  of  sash  and  Mary  Anne  spins 
as  it  unwinds.) 

Mary  Anne.  Aunty,  it’s  silly,  I  know,  but  what 
hurt  me  most  was  I  knew  they  were  laughing  at  me. 
(She  hursts  into  tears  again  in  Mrs.  Kirkland’s 
arms.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  So  Billy  Barclay  came  to  ask 
you  to  go  to  the  party  and  then  changed  his  mind 
because  they  twitted  him,  eh? 


GOLDEN  DAYS  37 

Mary  Anne.  I  couldn’t  go  now,  Auntie — I 
wouldn’t  go ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  My  dear,  you  imagine  you  care 
for  Billy  Barclay  just  because  you’ve  never  seen 
anyone  else.  Well,  there’s  no  reason  why  you  can’t 
have  him  if  you  want  him. 

(Betsy  enters  r.) 

Betsy.  That  foreign  French  girl  wants  to  know — 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Foreign -  (Mrs.  Kirk¬ 

land  is  amused  at  Betsy  at  first.  Then  goes  c.) 
You  tell  that  “foreign  French  girl”  to  come  here  at 
once.  Wait — is  that  nice  gentleman  who  gave  you 
the  dollar  still  playing  with  the  dog  in  the  back 
yard? 

Betsy.  Yessum.  It  was  two  dollars. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Tell  him  to  come. 

Betsy.  Yes,  ’um.  (She  exits  off  r.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland,  (c.)  I’ll  see  about  this  jilting 
business. 

Mary  Anne.  Aunty,  what  are  you  going  to  do? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I’m  going  back  to  New  York, 
and  you’re  going  with  me. 

Mary  Anne.  (Astounded)  Me!! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  But,  Maria,  you  said  you  were 
all  run  down  and  needed  a  rest. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Did  I?  Well,  I  guess  I  was 
mistaken — what  I  need  is  excitement.  ( Crosses 
down  to  l.c.J 

Mary  Anne.  What  do  you  mean,  Aunty? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  The  excitement  of  backing  you 
against  Elaine  Jewett  and  seeing  which  will  come 
out  ahead. 


(Felice  enters  rJ 


38 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mary  Anne.  Why,  Aunty! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Up  c.)  Yes,  and  well  have 
one  good  fling  at  them  before  we  go.  (Dick  en¬ 
ters  r.J  Felice!  Don’t  unpack!  We  are  going 
away  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 

Felice.  Oui,  Madame! 

Mary  Anne.  But  I  don’t  understand. 

Dick.  (To  c.)  Want  me? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Yes.  Dickie,  come  here. 

You’re  going  to  the  party  at  the  hotel  to-night. 

Dick.  I  know  I  am. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Yes.  But  what  you  don’t  know 
is,  you’re  going  to  take  Mary  Anne  and  me. 

Dick.  (Grins)  Fine! 

Mary  Anne.  But,  Aunty -  (Looking  at  her 

dress.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I’ll  fix  that.  (To  DickJ 

What  time  is  it? 

Dick.  (Looks  at  his  watch)  Four  o’clock. 

WARN  CURTAIN. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  How  long  would  it  take  a  care¬ 
ful  driver  to  bring  a  motor  car  full  of  gowns  down 
here  from  the  city? 

Mary  Anne.  (Gasps)  Oh! 

Dick.  (Calmly)  About  three  hours. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Get  Madame  Blanche  on  the 
long  distance,  like  a  good  boy.  The  number  is 
Plaza  3800. 

Dick.  Sure.  (He  goes  across  room  and  takes 
the  phone  which  stands  on  the  table  r.  at  wall.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland,  (c.)  I’ll  give  Elaine  Jewett 
something  to  talk  about.  ( Contemptuously )  Wait¬ 
ing  on  the  table,  indeed! 

Mary  Anne.  (Toe.)  Aunty! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Arms  about  Mary  AnneJ 
Wait  till  she  sees  you  at  the  party  to-night  on  the 


GOLDEN  DAYS  39 

arm  of  Dickie  Stanhope.  Dickie,  you  make  love 
to  Mary  Anne  all  you  know  how. 

Dick.  (At  phone ,  grinning)  Fine! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Violent  love! 

Dick.  (With  gusto )  I  get  you ! 

Mary  Anne.  (Embarrassed)  Oh,  Aunty! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  We’ll  make  Billy  Barclay  so 
jealous  he’ll  want  to  fight;  and  Elaine  Jewett  so 
envious  she’ll  want  to  scream.  (Picks  up  chair  and 
puts  it  c.  with  a  bang.) 

Dick.  (In  phone)  Toll  operator.  I  want  to  get 
3800  Plaza,  New  York  City. 

(The  following  scene  between  Mrs.  Kirkland  and 
Felice  is  spoken  in  rapid  French ,  both  gesticu¬ 
lating  wildly  with  their  hands.  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land  seats  Mary  Anne  between  them.  The 
more  exaggerated  the  gestures,  the  more  Mary 
Anne's  bewilderment  is  funny  as  she  looks 
from  one  to  the  other.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Felice !  Regardez! 

Felice.  (Coming  down)  Oui,  Madam. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Je  desire  que  vous  vous  occu- 
piez  exclusivement  de  la  toilette  de  Mademoiselle. 
Nous  choiserons  les  robe  les  plus  jolies  et  les  plus 
chic,  sans  nous  occuper  du  prix. 

Felice.  Ah/  Mademoiselle  en  crdpe  de  chine 
blanc  avec  rien  qu3un  collier  de  perles;  ses  cheveux 
coiffes  d  la  Rosaire.  Ah,  Mademoiselle,  elle  serait 
tout  a  fait  delicieuse. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Ah,  oui!  Je  vais  commander 
une  douzaine  de  combinaisons  et  nous  verrons  ce 
qui  lui  ira  le  mieux;  du  blanc  et  rose,  que  est  ton- 
jours  joli,  ou  peutetre,  du  bleu  et  blanc  orne  de  rose. 

Felice.  Ah,  oui,  oui! 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


40 

(Mary  Anne  sits  listening ,  entranced,  and  Mrs. 
Simmonds  in  open-mouthed  amazement.  Fi¬ 
nally  Mrs.  Simmonds  can  stand  it  no  longer 
and  breaks  in.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Down  l.  of  table  l.)  Good 
heavens,  Maria,  what  are  you  jabberin’  about? 

RING. 

Dick.  (At  the  phone)  Is  this  3800  Plaza? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  And  a  body  not  understandin’ 
a  word  you’re  sayin’.  I  declare  I  never  heard  such 
goin’s  on  in  my  life. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  touches  Mary  Anne’s  hair,  pay¬ 
ing  no  attention  to  her  sister,  continuing  her 
conversation  with  Felice.,) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Coiffee  a  la  Rosaire?  Je  ne 
suis  pas  sure  si  ca  me  plairait.  Sa  figure  est  un  pen 
legere,  peutetre  quelque  chose  de  plus  simple  irait 
mieux. 

(Felice,  in  a  loud  voice,  argues  to  the  contrary. 
Dick  is  talking  into  the  phone.  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land  answers  Felice  between  phrases,  and 
amid  this  babble  of  French  and  English  the  cur¬ 
tain  descends.) 


CURTAIN 

(Translation  of  End  of  Act  I.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Felice. 

Felice.  Yes,  Madame. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  want  you  to  take  full  charge 
of  this  young  lady’s  toilette.  We  shall  select  the 
prettiest  and  most  stylish  dresses  without  regard  to 
price. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


41 

Felice.  (In  ecstacy  at  the  thought)  Ah!  Made¬ 
moiselle  in  white  crepe  de  chine,  with  just  a  neck¬ 
lace  of  pearls ;  her  hair,  a  la  Rosaire.  Ah,  Madame, 
she  would  be  exquisite ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Ah,  yes.  I  shall  order  a  dozen 
combinations  and  we  shall  see  which  is  most  becom¬ 
ing,  white  and  rose,  which  is  always  pretty,  or  per¬ 
haps  white  and  blue  with  a  touch  of  rose. 

Felice.  Ah,  yes,  yes! 

(Mary  Anne  sits  listening,  entranced,  and  Mrs. 
Simmonds  in  open-mouth  amazement.  Finally 
she  can  stand  it  no  longer  and  breaks  in.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Down  l.  of  table  l.)  Good 
heavens,  Maria,  what  are  you  jabberin'  about? 

RING. 

Dick.  (At  the  phone)  Is  this  3800  Plaza? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  And  a  body  not  understandin’ 
a  word  you're  sayin' !  I  declare  I  never  heard  such 
goin's  on  in  my  life. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  touches  Mary  Anne's  hair,  paying 
no  attention  to  her  sister,  continuing  her  con¬ 
versation  with  Felice  .) 

-^Mrs.  Kirkland.  Coiffure  a  la  Rosaire.  I  am 
not  sure  whether  that  will  please  me.  Her  figure  is 
a  little  delicate,  perhaps  something  more  simple 
would  be  better. 

(Felice,  in  loud  voice,  argues  to  the  contrary.  Dick 
is  talking  into  the  phone.  Mrs.  Kirkland  an¬ 
swers  Felice  between  phrases,  and  amid  this 
babble  of  French  and  English  the  curtain  de¬ 
scends.) 


CURTAIN 


ACT  II 


Scene:  A  parlor  in  the  new  hotel  at  Farmdale. 
The  room  is  done  in  light  panels  in  baby  blue 
and  pink  with  deeper  shades  of  pink  draperies. 
A  blue  carpet,  c.  arch  with  one  step  and  plat¬ 
form  leads  both  r.  and  l.  Backing  this  hallway 
is  a  stained  window  c.  and  flower-box  with 
flowers  and  ferns.  On  either  side  of  the  arch 
are  small  fancy  writing-desks  with  chairs  and 
desk  lamps,  r.c.  obliqued  arch  leads  to  hotel 
office,  l.c.  obliqued  arch  leads  to  ballroom.  At 
R.c.  and  L.c.  small  settees  of  same  pattern  stand 
obliqued  facing  c.  Fancy  table  r.i.  against 
wall  with  large  bronze  ornaments.  Smaller 
table  against  wall  l.i.  with  smaller  ornament. 
No  other  furniture  is  needed.  Wall  brackets 
and  chandelier  lighted  throughout. 

There  is  music  and  dancing  in  the  room  l. 

Time:  It  is  about  nine  o’clock  of  the  same  evening 
as  Act  /. 

The  curtain  rises  to  the  music  of  a  waltz 
played  by  the  orchestra  in  the  room  off  l. 

Note. — Music  must  be  very  soft  all  through 
act.  When  the  curtain  is  well  up  it  stops. 

Annabelle  Larsh  and  Frank  Montgom¬ 
ery  cross  r.  to  l.  Trella  Webb  and  Lloyd 
Henderson  enter  l.  They  have  been  dancing 
and  she  is  laughing  and  exhilarated. 

They  are  followed  by  Patty  Ellison  and 
Teddy  Farnum  and  Charles  Mason.  Exit 
l.  Annabelle  and  Frank. 

42 


GOLDEN  DAYS  43 

The  laughter  dies  away  and  Trella  is  heard 
speaking  to  Lloyd, 

Lloyd.  (Makes  for  divan  at  r .)  Let’s  all  take 
a  rest.  I’m  tired. 

Trella.  (Back  of  divan  r.J  Good  heavens, 
Lloyd,  you’re  too  lazy  to  dance,  and  I  think  you 
grow  worse  instead  of  better. 

Lloyd.  (Seated  r.)  It  was  the  orchestra’s  fault. 
The  leader  got  all  mixed  up.  (Patty  and  Teddy 
are  at  L.) 

Trella.  Nonsense,  it  was  just  a  simple  glide. 

Lloyd.  Glide  nothing ! 

Mason.  (Who  stutters  slightly  at  times)  You 
g-g-go  and  ask  that  leader.  He’ll  set  you  right. 

LLoyd.  Dancing  makes  me  tired,  anyhow. 

Trella.  Beware!  That  tiredness  is  becoming 
chronic ! 

Teddy.  You  just  slip  into  it,  old  man.  Here,  let 
me  show  you.  (Illustrates.  Mason  works  to  Patty, 
back  of  divan.) 

Patty.  Teddy  Bear,  get  back  in  your  cage.  You 
don’t  know  how  to  do  it  yourself. 

Teddy.  (Boyishly)  I  do  so. 

Trella.  ( Laughing )  Teddy,  your  dancing  is 
original,  to  say  the  least.  (Sits  by  Lloyd  on  divan 

r) 

Teddy.  (Bows)  Oh,  thanks.  I  always  was  an 
original  cuss.  (To  Lloyd )  Keep  on  plugging,  old 
man  .  .  .  That’s  how  I  got  my  start. 

Mason.  (To  c.)  G-give  us  a  cigarette,  Ted, 

Teddy.  (Producing  handsome  cigarette-case) 
I’ll  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I’ll  take  you  out  and 
introduce  you  to  the  girl  at  the  cigar-stand  and  you 
can  buy  some  cigarettes.  ( Gives  him  one.) 

Trella,  Oh,  what  a  fetching  cigarette-case! 
Beautiful ! 


44 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Lloyd.  (On  settee  r.)  You  know,  it’s  a  funny 
thing,  but  his  brother  Bob  has  got  one  just  like  that! 

Teddy.  (Goes  up  stage — to  LloydJ  You  mind 
your  own  business. 

Patty.  Oh,  stop  squabbling!  Where’s  Elaine? 

Mason.  Out  on  the  porch  with  Billy. 

Patty.  What’s  the  matter  with  those  two  ? 

Teddy.  They  seem  to  be  sparring  about  some¬ 
thing.  (Boys  go  up  stage,  smoking.) 

Trella.  (As  Patty  comes  to  divan)  Lloyd,  do 
get  up. 

Lloyd.  (Rises,  Patty  taking  his  seat.)  Excuse 
me,  but  I  was  up  awfully  late  last  night.  ( Goes  up 
c.  to  boys,  then  down  to  settee  l.J 

Patty.  (To  Trella )  Is  Mrs.  Jewett  coming 
over  to-night? 

Trella.  No,  she’s  among  those  absent,  for  a  won¬ 
der  ! 

(Lloyd,  with  a  sigh  of  contentment,  sprawls  on 
divan  at  l.) 

Patty.  (To  Trella )  Mrs.  Jewett  makes  a 
goose  of  herself  over  Bilfy — I  should  think  Elaine 
would  be  ashamed  of  it. 

(Boys  work  down,  casually.) 

Trella.  You  infant!  Elaine  doesn’t  object  in 
the  least  to  being  thrown  in  that  direction.  All  she 
thinks  of  is  how  to  inveigle  a  little  platinum  and 
diamond  affair  from  Billy  to  wear  on  number  three, 
left. 

Patty.  Well,  let’s  hope  she  gets  it. 

Trella.  Oh,  she  will!  Don’t  worry.  Elaine 
wins  everything  she  plays  for,  especially  when 
backed  up  by  her  dear  mama! 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


45 


(Teddy  and  Mason  work  down.  Miss  Slissy  en¬ 
ters  c.  She  is  dressed  in  a  semi-evening  gown 
at  once  amateurish  and  outre  and  a  hat  which 
corresponds.) 

Miss  Slissy.  ( c .  Simpering)  Oh,  good  eve¬ 
ning.  (Fans  nervously.) 

Boys.  Ah ! 

(Miss  Slissy  accepts  their  ecstatic  exclamations  as 
genuine.) 

Trella.  (Amused)  Look  who’s  here! 

(The  boys  gather  round  in  a  merry  mood.  Patty 
works  above  to  l.  Annabelle  and  Frank 
pass  from  l.  to  R.,  where  they  pause  to  regard 
Miss  Slissy.) 

Miss  Slissy.  I’m  Miss  Slissy,  milliner  and 
dressmaker  here.  I  was  looking  for  Miss  Jewett — 
Trella.  She’s  somewhere  about. 

(Patty  goes  to  l.  of  Teddy.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Is  she?  Thanks.  (Sizing  up  the 
men.)  You’re  having  a  lovely  party,  ain’t  you? 

Trella  (Stares  at  her,  amused.)  Almost.  (Hides 
smirk.) 

Miss  Slissy.  (Over  to  Trella)  I  do  love  to 
see  the  young  folks  enjoy  themselves.  (To  Teddy) 
You  are  enjoying  it,  I  suppose? 

Teddy.  (With  exaggerated  courtesy)  I  wasn’t, 

but  I  am  now. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  love  parties,  passionately.  ( Fans.) 
Trella.  (Laughing)  Really? 


46 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Miss  Slissy.  Oh,  yes.  Everyone  says  I’m  al¬ 
ways  the  life  of  every  party  I  go  to. 

Lloyd.  (Stands  up  to  enjoy  Miss  Slissy’s  con¬ 
versation  )  Huh ! 

Trella.  (To  others)  She  must  be.  Even  Lloyd 
is  coming  to  life!  (Laughs  almost  in  Miss  Slissy’s 
face.) 

Miss  Slissy.  I  didn’t  exactly  expect  to  be  com¬ 
ing  to  this  one,  or  I’d  be  more  decoletty,  and  with¬ 
out  a  hat.  (Fusses  with  her  hat.  Trella  notices 
it.) 

Trella.  Oh !  but  that’s  a  lovely  hat  you’re  wear- 
ing! 

(Patty  goes  l.c.  with  a  sign  to  Trella  not  to  guy 
Miss  Slissy.  ) 

Miss  Slissy.  (Pleased)  Do  you  care  for  it? 

Trella.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it. 

Patty.  (Sorry  for  Miss  Slissy )  I  think  the 
hat’s  quite  pretty  and  simple. 

Trella.  (Innocently)  It’s  simple,  all  right. 

Miss  Slissy.  It’s  my  own  design.  I  deal  in  noth¬ 
ing  but  the  most  exclusive  styles. 

Teddy.  (With  most  seriousness)  Now,  don’t 
you  copy  it,  Trella! 

Miss  Slissy.  It  won’t  come  to  over  four  dollars 
if  one  of  you  would  like  me  to  copy  it. 

Teddy.  Profiteer! 

Miss  Slissy.  ( Sits ,  touches  her  hat )  Look  at 
that  ornament.  Ain’t  that  saucy?  It  doesn’t  re¬ 
quire  another  thing,  does  it? 

Teddy.  (Standing  near  Miss  Slissy,  pretends  to 
regard  hat  critically )  I  would  suggest  a  large  pine¬ 
apple  peeping  from  the  brim. 

Patty.  (Over  to  Teddy,)  Teddy,  shut  up. 

(Patty  goes  l.  Lloyd  follows.  Patty  sits  l.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


47 


Miss  Slissy.  I  do  work  for  the  very  best  people 
in  town,  and  summer  visitors,  too.  Yes,  indeed !  I 
hope  to  start  to-morrow  for  Miss  Elaine  Jewett. 
(To  Trella J  My  place  is  on  Main  Street,  right 
next  to  the  Post  Office.  Come  in  and  see  me  some 
time. 

Trella.  (Giggling)  I  surely  will.  (Elaine 
and  Barclay  enter  c.  Trella  arises.)  Here's  Miss 
Jewett  now. 

(Egbert  Moon  enters  l.,  meets  Frank  and  Anna- 
belle  c.  Pantomime  conversation  as  they  all 
exit  l.) 

Miss  Slissy.  (Rises — to  c.)  How  de  do,  Miss 
Jewett? 

Elaine.  ( Frowning ,  recognizing  her)  Oh,  Miss 
Slissy !  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here? 

Miss  Slissy.  (Slightly  apologetic)  Well,  I 
thought  I’d  drop  around  to-night  and  find  out  what 
time  you  wanted  me  to  come  to-morrow  to  do  that 
plain  sewin’. 

(Mason  over  to  l.  near  l.u.  entrance.) 

Elaine.  Come  right  after  breakfast. 

Miss  Slissy.  About  half-past  six?  ( Omnes 
laugh.) 

MUSIC  No.  2  (Fox  Trot) 

Elaine.  Good  gracious!  Half  past  eleven. 
(Crosses  to  r.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Land  sakes,  I’m  ready  for  dinner 
by  that  time. 

(Music  starts.  Elaine  goes  r.  behind  Trella.J 

Lloyd.  Is  this  mine,  Pat?  (Goes  l.  to  Patty 
and  they  exit  into  ballroom.) 


48 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Miss  Slissy.  Isn’t  that  a  lovely  tune  they’re 
playing?  (Comes  to  Trella  r.c.  I  eddy  to  c.j 

Trella.  Do  you  dance,  Miss  Slissy? 

Miss  Slissy.  Mercy,  I  should  say  so !  I  was  up 
to  Bridgeport  three  weeks  one  winter  and  took  the 
whole  course. 

Trella  (Takes  Teddy  bv  the  hand  and  draws 
him  toward  Miss  Slissy.)  Teddy!  Miss  Slissy 
dances. 

Teddy.  Does  she?  That’s  fine.  It’s  great  exer¬ 
cise!  Come  on.  this  is  where  you  dance  with  the 
Teddy  Bear.  (Drags  Trella  by  the  hand  to  l.u. 
entrance.) 

Miss  Slissy.  (Laughing)  Teddy  Bear.  He 
looks  more  grass-hopperish  to  me. 

Teddy.  (Laughing)  Thanks  awfully. 

Mason.  (Crosses  to  Trella  and  Teddy)  Wait 
a  minute,  Trella.  You  promised  m-m-me  a  dance. 
I  thought  it  was - 

Trella.  You’re  always  too  late,  Charley.  Why 


so  backward?  .  , 

Teddy.  She  was  up  to  Bridgeport  one  winter  and 
took  the  whole  course.  (Shoves  Mason  toward 
Miss  Slissy,  turns  and  leads  Trella  off  l.  She  is 
laughing.  Mason,  left  standing,  facing  Miss  Slissy, 
looks  at  her  in  consternation,  then  turns  and  hurries 
off  l.  after  Teddy.  Calling) 

Mason  Hey!  Wait  a  minute!  What  was  that 
you  s-s-said?  I  didn’t  hear  the  last  part  of  it.  (Etc  ) 
Miss  Slissy.  Too  bad  he’s  so  bashful .  (Fol¬ 
lows  over  to  l,  then  turns  to  Billy  and  Elaine  up 


c.)  Howdy  do,  Billy?  .  .. 

Billy.  ( Hastily )  ^Good  evening,  Miss  Slissy. 

I’m  not  dancing  just  now. 


(Elaine  goes  down  to  divan  R.  and  Billy  follows.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


49 


Miss  Slissy.  Too  bad !  I’m  a  wonderful  part¬ 
ner.  (Follows  him  as  he  goes  to  Elaine.)  I  ain’t 
seen  you  down  here  since  last  summer,  Billy. 

Billy.  ( Shortly ,  through  with  her)  Maybe  not. 
(Turns  to  Elaine.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Not  since  that  dance  at  Hillsbys, 

when  you  and  Mary  Anne - 

Billy.  (To  Miss  Slissy j  Excuse  me,  please. 
(To  Elaine,  lowering  his  voice)  Don’t  you  want 

to  dance? 

Elaine.  (Looks  tozvard  Miss  Slissy  and  speaks 
with  veiled  sarcasm )  Every  one  in  Farmdale  seem 
to  know  you  and  your  history  quite  well. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Down  c.)  Lord,  I’ve  known 
Billy  Barclay  ever  since  he  was  knee  high  to  a  duck 
and  had  the  habit  of  sucking  his  thumb.  I  remem¬ 
ber  once,  when  he  was  about  ten  years  old - 

Billy.  (Annoyed)  Excuse  me,  Miss  Slissy,  but 

I’m  engaged  just  now - 

Miss  Slissy.  (Goes  toward  l.)  Well,  ain’t  you 
uppety !  I  wonder  if  they’d  mind  if  I  sat  and 
watched  ’em  for  a  spell.  (Turns  once  more.)  Do 
you  know,  this  is  the  swellest  affair  we’ve  had  here 
since  Theda  Bara  made  her  personal  appearance. 
(Exits  L.  rather  grandly.) 

Billy.  (To  Elaine )  Aw — come  on,  Elaine. 
Why  won’t  you  ? 

Elaine.  Because  I  don’t  wish  to  dance. 

WATCH  Music  to  Stop. 

Billy.  Why  not? 

Elaine.  Why  should  I?  I’m  certain  you’d  pre¬ 
fer  to  keep  on  talking  about  that  little  country  girl 

in  the  tea-shop. 

Billy.  (Beside  Elaine )  I  was  merely  trying  to 

explain - 

Elaine.  I  never  asked  you  to  explain. 


5o 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Billy.  You  acted  as  though  you  expected  it. 
You  led  me  on  to  talk  about  her. 

Elaine.  Because  I  saw  it  was  useless  for  me  to 
try  to  entertain  you  when  your  thoughts  were  some¬ 
where  else. 

Billy.  Now,  Elaine,  you  know  I’ve  hardly  left 
your  side  all  evening. 

Elaine.  Oh.  dear,  don’t  allow  me  to  detain  you. 
Fm  certain  you’d  rather  be  strolling  up  a  country 
road  not  far  away — the  road  to  her  house. 

Billy.  I’ve  known  Mary  Anne  almost  ever  since 
she  was  born. 

Elaine.  Yes,  so  Eve  heard. 

Billy.  You’d  like  her,  too,  if  you  knew  her  well. 

Elaine.  Like  her?  That  ordinary  little  thing? 
Why,  she  doesn’t  even  know  how  to  dress. 

Billy.  Maybe  she  doesn’t.  But  I  always 
thought - 

Elaine.  Of  course  she’s  not  to  blame.  What  can 
you  expect  of  a  girl  who  lives  the  year  round  in  a 
town  like  this? 

Billy.  Let’s  change  the  subject,  Elaine — please. 

(Trella  enters  l.,  followed  by  Mason,  Patty, 
Edgar,  Lloyd  and  Annabelle.  Teddy  crosses 
r.  and  exits  out  to  office.) 

Trella.  (Goes  over  to  Elaine  and  Billy  c.) 
You  two  people  are  having  a  lovely  party,  aren’t 
you?  You  danced  the  last  one  on  the  porch  and 
this  one  in  the  parlor. 

Elaine.  Em  tired,  Trella. 

Lloyd.  So  am  I.  My  legs  feel  overworked  from 
all  that  dancing. 

Trella.  (To  Elaine,)  It’s  hardly  fair  to  monop¬ 
olize  Billy  the  entire  evening. 

Lloyd.  (Eagerly)  If  you  girls  want  to  duck 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


5i 


dancing  with  us  beginners,  I’d  just  as  lief  sit  out 
the  rest  of  the  dances.  (Sits  at  l.) 

Trella.  Can’t  some  one  bring  Lloyd  a  hammock, 
so  he  can  dream  the  happy  hours  away? 

Patty.  (On  sofa  l.,  kindly  to  Lloyd)  Lloyd, 
you  danced  beautifully.  You  stepped  on  my  toe 
only  twice. 

Trella.  (Over  her  shoulder)  I  lost  count.  (At 
c.)  Has  anybody  seen  Dickie  Stanhope? 

Mason.  (At  r.)  N-n-not  I. 

Annabelle.  I  promised  him  a  dance,  I  remem¬ 
ber. 

Edgar.  He’s  a  last-minute  chap,  always  was. 

Elaine.  It’s  past  ten  o’clock.  He’s  true  to  his 
reputation. 

Billy.  (At  far  r.)  I  wonder -  (With  sud¬ 

den  suspicion)  Say,  I’ve  got  a  hunch  he’ll  pass  up 
this  dance  entirely. 

Trella.  (To  Billy)  Don’t!  Good  partners  are 
scarce  enough  already. 

Teddy.  (Ecstatically,  dashing  in  at  c.)  Oh,  boy! 
Oh,  boy! 

(Patty  rises.  Trella  down  l.  of  divan  at  r.) 

Billy.  What’s  the  excitement? 

Teddy.  Talk  about  your  stunning  baby-dolls! 
Wait  till  you  see  the  queen  Dickie  Stanhope’s  got  in 
tow. 

Elaine.  Who  is  she? 

Teddy.  I  don’t  know,  but  she’s  a  pippin’.  Some 
Jane!  Ah,  there,  my  little  color-scheme! 

Patty.  (Goes  to  him)  Teddy  Farnum,  I’m  sur¬ 
prised  at  you. 

Trella.  So  pretty  as  all  that? 

Teddy.  Pretty?  She’s  wonderful! 

Patty.  Teddy ! 

Teddy.  Well,  Pat,  she  is.  I’m  dizzy! 


52 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Elaine.  Who  can  it  be? 

Lloyd.  (Rising)  Where  is  she? 

Trella.  (Speaking  of  Lloyd,)  Oh,  look,  he’s 
awake ! 

Teddy.  He  just  led  her  in  from  his  car.  Talk 
about  Cinderella  at  the  ball. 

(Patty  moves  far  l.  Dick  Stanhope  c.  from  r. 
enters  with  Mary  Anne  upon  his  arm.  Dick 
is  immaculate  in  evening  dress  and  Mary  Anne 
the  vision  of  loveliness,  in  a  white  evening  dress 
of  exquisite  material  and  design.  She  zvears  a 
light  evening  wrap  also  very  costly.  She  is 
followed  by  Felice.  The  whole  thing  has  been 
staged  and  arranged  by  Mrs.  Kirkland.  Fe¬ 
lice  remains  up  stage.) 

Dick.  ( Grinning )  Hello,  people!  Are  we  late? 
Better  that  than  never.  (Elaine  rises.  Patty 
works  far  l.)  You  all  know  Miss  Simmonds,  I’m 
sure — no,  I’m  mistaken.  There  are  those  who 
haven’t  had  the  pleasure.  (Introducing )  Miss  El¬ 
lison,  Mr.  Mason,  Miss  Marion  Simmonds  of  this 
city.  (To  Mary  Anne)  You  know  all  the  others, 
and  Mr.  Barclay,  of  course! 

Mary  Anne.  (c..r)  Oh,  yes!  How  do  you  do? 

Billy,  (^r.c.  Stunned)  Mary  Anne! 

Dick,  (c.)  Sounds  the  same  only  the  spelling 
is  different. 

Elaine,  (r.  at  corner  settee )  Why — why - 

Trella.  (r.  of  Elaine,  coming  to  her  rescue ) 
It’s  the  little  girl  we  met  this  afternoon. 

Dick.  Yes,  Miss  Simmonds  is  Mrs.  Kirkland’s 
niece.  I  brought  “Aunty  Kirk”  down  this  afternoon. 

Elaine.  (A  step  tozvard  c.)  Mrs.  Drexel  Kirk¬ 
land  ? 

Dick.  Yes.  She  isn’t  really  my  aunt,  you  know. 
I  just  adopted  her.  But  she’s  Marion’s  aunt,  and — 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


53 


Trella.  (Effusively.  Going  over  to  Mary 
Anne )  Why,  how  do  you  do  ?  ( Shakes  hands 

with  her.) 

READY  Music  No.  3. 
Mary  Anne.  (Sweetly)  I’m  quite  well,  thank 
you.  (She  passes  onto  Patty  lJ  How  do  you  do? 

(Trella  goes  back  to  Elaine.  Mason  works 
around  group  h.) 

Patty.  (Sweetly)  Strange  we  haven’t  met  be¬ 
fore.  I  know  Mrs.  Kirkland  very  well. 

(Patty  and  Mary  Anne  take  to  each  other  instinct¬ 
ively.  Billy  tries  to  go  to  Mary  Anne.  Dick 
stops  him  and  takes  him  r.  Mason  and  Lloyd 
crowd  around  Mary  Anne  l.  Teddy  can't 
get  in.) 

Lloyd.  (To  Mary  Anne,)  Haven’t  you  got  a 
dance-card?  I’ll  run  and  get  you  one. 

Dick.  (To  Billy )  Sorry  to  be  late,  but  we  were 
chatting  up  at  Mrs.  Simmonds’.  How’s  everything 
going?  • 

Billy.  (Still  dazed  and  almost  incoherent)  Yes, 
of  course — that  is — great! 

Dick.  (Coolly)  Good  news!  Marion  expects  to 
spend  the  winter  in  New  York  with  Aunty  Kirk. 
We’ll  take  in  a  lot  of  dances  then.  This  will  do  for 
a  starter. 

(Teddy  has  been  in  considerable  of  a  fidget,  wishing 
to  be  introduced.  Now  breaks,  forth.) 

Teddy.  (To  Dick,)  Say,  haven’t  you  forgotten 
to  introduce  a  certain  party  ? 


54  GOLDEN  DAYS 

(Trella  works  to  r.  and  back  of  settee.) 


Dick.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Teddy,  so  I  have.  (To 
Mary  Anne)  Oh,  Marion,  this  is  Mr.  Teddy  Far- 
num — our  Teddy  Bear.  (All  the  boys  laugh.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Shaking  hands  with  Teddy)  How 
do  you  do  ? 

MUSIC  starts.  No.  3.  (One  Step.) 

Teddy.  I’m  glad  to  know  you,  Miss  Simmonds. 
There  are  many  things  I  would  like  to  discuss  with 
you.  May  I  have  several  dances?  (He  is  jostled 
aside  by  other  boys.) 

Dick.  (Breaks  in)  Do  you  care  to  dance  this 
one,  Marion? 


(Teddy  goes  up  stage.) 

Mary  Anne.  (To  c.  Trying  hard  to  keep  in 
the  character  she  is  assuming.)  Fd  love  to.  Felice ! 

(Teddy  over  to  Patty  l.) 

Felice.  ( Coming  down)  Oui,  Mademoiselle. 
(Removes  Mary  Anne's  cloak.) 

Mary  Anne.  (In  a  very  casual  French  to  Felice ) 
Aimez-vous  regarder  les  danseurs?  (Do  you  care 
to  watch  the  dancers ?) 

Felice.  Ah,  mademoiselle,  je  l’aimerais  bien.  (I 
should  like  it  very  much.) 

Mary  Anne.  Alors,  asseyez  vous  dans  la  salle  du 
bal.  Peutetre  j'aurais  besoin  du  manteau,  s’il  ferait 
froid.  (Take  a  seat  in  the  ballroom.  T  may  want 
the  cloak  if  it  gets  cold.) 

Felice.  (Quickly)  Merci,  Mademoiselle ! 

Mary  Anne.  (Sigh  of  relief  that  she  has  said 
the  French  correctly )  Are  you  ready  ? 

Dick.  (Offering  his  arm)  You  bet.  ( Crosses 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


55 

to  Mary  Anne.  To  the  other  hoys.)  The  supper 
dance  is  mine,  boys,  but  I  won’t  be  stingy ;  you  may 
help  yourselves  to  one  or  two  of  the  others. 

(Mary  Anne  and  Dick  exit  l.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Outside)  Good  evening,  Miss 
Slissy. 

(Enter  Miss  Slissy  l.,  flustered.  Billy  crosses 
to  entrance  l.  Mason  up  to  l.  Teddy  joins 
Lloyd.J 

Miss  Slissy.  (Looking  after  Mary  Anne) 
Dear  me,  I  never  had  such  a  funny  feelin’  in  all  my 
life.  (To  others)  Was  that  or  was  that  not  Mary 
Anne  Simmonds? 

Teddy.  Yes — that’s  her  name. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  I’ve  heard  tell  of  miracles, 
but  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  seen  on.  (She  moves 
up  stage,  a  little  unsteady.)  I’ll  come  to-morrow  to 
Mary  Anne,  Miss  Jewett — I  mean  I’ll  come  to  Miss 

Jewett  to-morrow,  Mary  Anne -  Land  sakes! 

what  am  I  talking  about  ?  ( She  turns  and  looks  l. 
a  little  dazed,  then  exits  c.  and  r.  All  laugh. 
Teddy  up  stage  l.) 

Trella.  (r.c.)  I  can’t  blame  her  much!  It’s 
the  way  I  feel. 

Patty.  I  don’t  see  what  all  the  excitement’s 
about.  I  think  Miss  Simmonds  is  lovely. 

Teddy.  (Down  c.)  Ah!  You  uphold  me? 
Patty.  I  absolutely  do. 

Billy.  (Up  c.)  She’s  wonderful!  (Work  r.c.J 
Elaine.  (Angry)  It  was  certainly  well  staged. 
( Crosses  to  Lloyd.)  This  is  ours,  I  think,  Lloyd, 
Lloyd.  So  it  is.  (They  exeunt  l.) 


56  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Trella.  (Going  to  l.  to  Mason )  Talk  about  a 
transformation ! 

Patty.  (Crosses  to  Billy  c.)  Come  on,  Billy, 
Pve  been  dying  to  dance  with  you. 

Billy.  (Dazed)  Excuse  me,  Patty,  will  you? 
Take  me  on  the  next  one. 

Patty.  Crushed  again. 

Teddy.  (Takes  Patty's  arm)  Never  mind,  little 
one,  you  have  me  to  fall  back  on. 

(Billy  goes  r.) 

Patty,  v  Oh,  well,  but  one  hates  to  dance  with 
one's  fiance  all  the  evening.  (Exeunt  l.J 
Teddy.  That’s  what  fiances  are  for. 

(Billy  looks  off  l.  sullenly ,  then  goes  to  r.  Mrs. 
Kirkland  enters  from  the  c.  and  R.  She  goes 
l.  and  watches  the  dancers.) 

Billy.  Why,  good  evening,  Mrs.  Kirkland. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  ( Pleasantly ,  over  her  shoul¬ 
der,  still  facing  ballroom)  Oh,  hello,  Billy  Barclay! 
How  do  you  do?  Aren’t  you  dancing? 

Billy.  Not  this  one. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh !  Did  your  father  come 
down,  Billy?  (She  turns  and  zvatches  the  dancers 
again.  Billy  thinks  a  moment ,  then  resolves  to  get 
in  her  good  graces.) 

Billy.  Yes.  He  and  mother.  There’s  a  whist 
party  on  upstairs.  ( Crosses  to  her  at  l.c.J  Mrs. 
Kirkland - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Turning  a  little)  Yes? 

Billy.  I  never  knew  that  Mary  Anne  Simmonds 
was  your  niece. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh,  dear,  yes! 


“Golden  Days”  See  page  54 


GOLDEN  DAYS  57 

Billy.  (Looking  l.J  She — she  looks  awfully 
pretty  to-night. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Innocently)  Yes,  doesn’t  she? 

WATCH  Ready  to  Stop. 
Billy.  I — never  saw  her*  dressed  like  that  be¬ 
fore. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Nods  carelessly )  She’s  such 
a  quiet  little  thing  it’s  seldom  we  can  get  her  to 
dress. 

Billy.  We  were  awfully  good  friends  once. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Indeed !  She’s  a  dear  little 
girl.  The  only  niece  I  have.  (Looking  l.)  Isn’t 
“Dickie”  Stanhope  an  excellent  dancer? 

Billy.  (Not  looking)  Yes. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  What  a  charming  picture  they 
make  together ! 

Billy.  (Looking  L.)  Dick  Stanhope  acts  as  if 
he  owned  her. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Nice  boy,  “Dickie.” 

Billy.  It’s  terribly  warm  in  here. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  It  has  been  sultry  to-day  for 
June.  Will  you  take  me  in?  I  don’t  wish  to  dance ; 
just  watch  them. 

MUSIC  stop  No.  3. 

Billy.  Surely. 

APPLAUSE. 

(Billy  moves  over  l.  and  exits  with  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land.  Teddy  and  Patty  enter  c.  from  the 
dance.  There  is  applause  and  the  dance  con¬ 
tinues.) 

Teddy.  (To  Patty,)  Phew! — that  was  a  swift 

one. 

Patty.  You’ll  have  to  go  into  training  again, 
Teddy. 

Teddy.  I  think  I  will  soon.  I’m  not  going  to 
wait  for  my  number  to  be  drawn. 


58  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Patty.  Oh!  Teddy,  you  don’t  seriously  think 
you  will  have  to— — 

No.  3  MUSIC  Continues . 

Teddy.  There,  don’t  worry.  I’m  not  going  to¬ 
night.  Not  till  I’ve  had  at  least  once  dance  with 
that  pretty  Miss  Simmonds,  anyhow.  (They  sit.) 

Patty.  If  it  weren’t  that  I  like  her  so  much,  I’d 
be  jealous,  Teddy  Farnum. 

Teddy.  She  is  awful  nice !  Say,  Patty,  did  you 
notice  Elaine  to-night  when  she  saw  Marion  Sim¬ 
monds  ? 

Patty.  No.  What  happened? 

Teddy.  (Boyishly  dramatic)  She  looked  as  if 
she’d  been  struck  by  lightning.  And  Billy  Barclay, 
too.  There’s  trouble  brewing.  (Rises  to  c.) 

Patty.  I  shouldn’t  be  surprised  if  that  were  the 
girl  Billy  used  to  go  round  with  here ! 

WATCH  Music  No.  3. 

Teddy.  ( Excited )  I’ll  bet  that's  it!  (Looking 
off  l. )  Look !  There’s  Billy  now.  Yes,  and  look 
at  him.  He’s  going  this  way.  (He  opens  and  shuts 
his  hand  convulsively ,  in  imitation  of  Billy. )  De¬ 
noting  anger  and  peevishness ! 

Patty.  (Runs  up  to  Teddy.  Looks  off  l.)  Yes. 
he’s  watching  Marion  and  Dickie  Stanhope. 

Teddy.  Gee,  there’s  going  to  be  something  doing, 
all  right.  (To  c.) 

STOP  Music  No.  3. 

Patty.  (Breathlessly)  What? 

Teddy.  A  fracas. 

Patty.  What  ? 

Teddy.  A  fracas.  A  hors  de  combat.  (Enlight¬ 
ening  her  ignorance )  Oh,  a  fight ! 

Patty.  You  mean -  (Toward  Teddy ) — be¬ 

tween  Dickie  and  Billy? 

Teddy.  Of  course. 


GOLDEN  DAYS  59 

Patty.  (Alarmed)  Oh,  wouldn’t  that  be  ter¬ 
rible  ! 

Teddy.  (Importantly)  I’ll  stop  them. 

Patty.  Do,  Teddy.  Don’t  let  them  fight. 

Teddy.  All  right.  I  might  as  well  begin  training 
now  as  at  Yaphank. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  enters  l.) 

Patty.  Oh,  Teddy,  to  think  of  your  being  a  sol¬ 
dier!  (She  and  Teddy  start  r.J 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Extending  her  hands)  Why, 
isn’t  that  you,  my  dear  Patty  ? 

Patty.  (Runs  hack)  Oh,  hello,  Mrs.  Kirkland! 
What  a  lovely  surprise ! 

Teddy.  (Returns)  Gee,  Mrs.  Kirkland,  this  is 
great,  meeting  you ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Allow  me  to  return  the  compi- 
ment. 

Patty.  We  didn’t  know  you  were  coming  here 
to-night. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  didn’t  know  it  myself  until 
this  afternoon.  I  just  dropped  in  to  chaperone  the 
party  for  a  while.  Are  you  having  a  pleasant  time  ? 

Teddy.  Fine.  We  were  on  our  way  to  investi¬ 
gate  some  fruit  punch  in  the  private  dining  room. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Then  trot  right  along. 

Patty.  We’ll  bring  you  some  if  it’s  any  good. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Thank  you.  (Teddy  and 
Patty  exit  at  r.  Mary  Anne  enters  l.  quickly.) 
Well,  dear? 

Mary  Anne.  (Agitatedly)  When  Billy  looked 
at  me  just  now,  my  heart  sort  of  tried  to  turn  over. 
Oh,  Auntie,  suppose  I  shouldn’t  be  able  to  keep  it 
up? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Good  gracious,  child.  You 
must  keep  it  up  now. 


60  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Mary  Anne.  (Bracing  up)  I  know  I  must — 
and  I  will. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  And  remember,  you  are  going 
to  win.  (Crosses  to  r.  She  looks  l.)  Be  careful. 
Here  he  comes. 

(Mary  Anne  to  divan  r.,  spreading  skirts  elabor¬ 
ately  and  assuming  nonchalant  pose.) 

Billy.  (Enters  l.)  Ah,  Mary  Anne!  (Sees 
Dick  has  followed  him  in  and  is  annoyed.) 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  addresses  Mary  Anne  for  Billy's 
benefit.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Did  you  enjoy  the  dance,  dear? 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  it  was  lovely! 

Dick.  (To  Mrs.  Kirkland,)  She’s  a  corking 
dancer. 

Mary  Anne.  (Lightly)  Thank  you.  It’s  been 
so  long  since  I  danced  I  was  almost  afraid  I  had 
forgotten  how. 

Billy.  (Stepping  forward)  May  I  have  the 
next  one,  Mary  Anne? 

Mary  Anne.  Well,  I - 

Dick.  Now,  Marion,  don’t  tire  yourself.  If 
you’ve  been  going  slow  on  dancing,  you  know, 
why - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Dick,)  But  she  and  Billy 
are  old  acquaintances,  it  seems,  so  I  presume  he  has 
a  claim  on  her.  (To  Mary  Anne,)  My  dear,  why 
have  you  never  once  mentioned  that  you  knew  Billy 
Barclay?  (Billy  is  chagrined  at  this  disclosure.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Assumed  innocence)  Why — why 
— it  was  such  a  long  time  ago,  it  never  entered  my 
head. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


6i 


(Mrs.  Kirkland  looks  around.  Dick  looks  at 
Mary  Anne  admiringly.) 

Dick.  (Then  to  Billy,  condescendingly)  Well, 
take  good  care  of  her  for  me,  old  man,  won’t  you  ? 

Billy.  I’ll  try.  ( Goes  to  divan  where  Mary 
Anne  is  sitting.) 

Dick.  Thanks.  (To  Mrs.  Kirkland,)  Shall 
we  go  in,  Auntie  Kirk  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Crosses  to  l.  exit )  Of  course. 

Dick.  (Turns  back  a  moment)  Be  careful, 
Marion.  Don’t  sit  in  a  draft  or  anything! 

Mary  Anne.  No,  I  won’t. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  and  Dick  start  for  l.) 

Dick.  You  wouldn’t  like  Felice  to  bring  in  your 
wrap  ?  No,  allow  me  to  bring  it. 

Mary  Anne.  (Sweetly)  Not  just  now,  Dick. 

(Exit  Dick  and  Mrs.  Kirkland.  Billy  looks 
after  Dick,  annoyed .) 

Billy.  Has  he  really  gone?  (Sits  beside  Mary 
Anne.J  I  didn’t  expect  to  see  you  so  soon  again, 
Mary  Anne. 

Mary  Anne.  Didn’t  you? 

Billy.  No.  (Sits  with  her.)  I  can  hardly  real¬ 
ize  it  is  you. 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  but  it  is,  Mr.  Barclay. 

Billy.  (Pause)  It  seems  natural  to  be  sitting 
alongside  of  you,  though. 

Mary  Anne.  Does  it? 

Billy.  I  should  say  it  did!  I - 


(Dick  enters  l.  with  Mary  Anne’s  fan.) 


6  2 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Dick.  (Behind  settee  r.J  Oh,  excuse  me  a  mo¬ 
ment,  Marion,  I  forgot  your  fan.  (Gives  it  to  her.) 
You  might  want  it. 

Mary  Anne.  (Takes  it)  Oh.  thanks.  It  is 
rather  warm  this  evening. 

Dick.  (To  Barclay,  tapping  him  on  shoulder) 
Pardon  me,  old  man,  won’t  you  ? 

Billy.  (Annoyed)  Certainly. 

(Dick  goes  l.) 

Mary  Anne.  (To  DickJ  Oh,  oh,  Dick - 

Dick.  (Stops)  Yes - 

Mary  Anne.  My  handkerchief,  you  have  that, 
too. 

Dick.  (Coming  back  and  taking  handkerchief 
from  his  pocket)  So  I  have.  Stupid  of  me. 
(Tosses  it  to  her  in  front  of  Billy J  There!  Is 
there  anything  else? 

Mary  Anne.  No,  I  think  that’s  all. 

READY  Music  No.  4. 

Dick.  If  there  is,  say  the  word.  I’ll  be  right  out 
here.  Pardon  me,  old  man,  won’t  you? 

Mary  Anne.  I  won’t  be  long. 

Dick.  Good!  (Exits  l.,  whistling.) 

Mary  Anne.  (To  Billy )  You — were  saying? 

Billy.  Oh,  yes — I  was  saying — er — let  me  fan 
you. 

Mary  Anne.  (Surrenders  her  fan)  Please  ao. 

Billy.  (Fanning  her)  I  was  saying  how  sur¬ 
prised  I  was  at  seeing  you  again  so  soon.  (He  for¬ 
gets  and  fans  himself.)  Of  course,  I  expected  .  .  . 
(He  turns ,  looking  for  Dick.  Mary  Anne  touches 
fan.)  Oh,  pardon  me ! 

Mary  Anne.  You  were  saying  you  expected - 

Billy.  Why — I — I -  (He  looks  at  her.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS  63 

Mary  Anne,  you  do  look  so  wonderful  to-night,  I 
hardly  know  what  I  am  saying. 

No.  4  MUSIC.  (Waltz.) 

Mary  Anne.  Well,  er — well -  (Rises  and 

takes  the  fan.)  Let’s  go  and  join  the  others. 

Billy.  And  spoil  all  this? 

Mary  Anne.  But  I  didn’t  realize  there  was  any¬ 
thing  to  spoil. 

Billy.  Oh,  but  there  is.  Why,  Mary  Anne,  now 
that  I  have  seen  you  again,  looked  into  your  eyes — 

Mary  Anne.  (Flustered)  Oh,  please  let’s  go  in 
and  dance. 

Billy.  Aw — wait,  Mary  Anne.  I  don’t  think 
that’s  very  complimentary.  You  don’t  seem  to  re¬ 
member  old  times  as  I  do.  Have  you  forgotten 
that  moonlight  dance  at  the  Hillsbys? 

Mary  Anne.  (Teasing)  Um  .  .  .  Let  me  see. 
Hillsby’s !  Did  we  walk  or  did  we  ride  ? 

Billy.  We  walked,  of  course.  It  was  only  half 
a  mile.  Don’t  you  remember  the  wild  roses  we 
picked  by  the  roadside? 

Mary  Anne.  I  remember  the  thorns. 

Billy.  I’ve  often  thought  of  that  dance.  I  wish 
we  were  back  there  again  to-night,  Mary  Anne, 
don’t  you  ? 

Mary  Anne.  Back  on  that  country  road?  Like 
this?  (Indicates  gown.)  Oh,  I  couldn’t!  (She 
crosses  to  l.c.  up.) 

Billy.  Well,  you’d  be  in  a  motor  car  if  we  were 
going  there  now,  Mary  Anne.  You’d  like  that, 
wouldn’t  you  ? 

Mary  Anne.  I  don’t  know,  Mr.  Barclay. 

Billy.  Oh,  stop  calling  me  Mr.  Barclay.  Why 
don’t  you  call  me  Billy,  as  you  used  to  do  in  the  old 
days? 

Mary  Anne.  Well,  those  old  days -  (Shrugs.) 

Billy.  No.  I  don’t  suppose  they  have  remained 


64  GOLDEN  DAYS 

as  sacred  to  you  as  they  have  to  me.  After  we 
stopped  writing - 

Mary  Anne.  (Very  distinctly)  Yes,  we  did 
stop  writing,  didn’t  you? 

Billy.  ( Rather  sheepishly )  Oh,  well,  maybe  I 
did.  But  /  can  explain  that.  You  see  they  keep  a 
fellow  on  the  jump  at  college.  Being  umpire  of  the 
Football  Team  and  all  that,  why - 

(Dick  enters  l.) 

Dick.  (Smilingly)  Sorry,  old  man,  I’ll  have  to 
take  her  away  from  you  now.  I  promised  her  to 
Mason  for  this  next  one.  Come  on,  Mason,  don’t 
be  shy. 

(Mason  enters  l.  Edgar  Moon  follows  on  and 
stands  up  stage,  looking  admiringly  at  Mary 
Anne.,) 

Mary  Anne.  Yes,  I’ve  been  wanting  to  dance. 
(This  is  said  meaningly.)  Oh,  ever  so  much! 

Mason.  B-b-book  me  for  one  every  n-n-night 
this  winter - 

(Mary  Anne  skips  across  to  Mason  and  drags 
him  off  l.) 

Billy.  (Angry,  to  Dick,)  I  don’t  like  the  way 
you  said  that. 

Dick.  ( Innocently)  Said  what? 

Billy.  (Blurting  it  out)  You  act  as  if  you 
owned  her. 

Dick.  Well,  I  brought  her  here,  didn’t  I? 

Billy.  AH  right,  but  where  do  /  come  in  ? 

(Enter  Patty  and  Teddy  from  r.  Patty  works 
to  back  of  chair  rJ 


GOLDEN  DAYS  65 

Dick.  Well,  you  just  had  her.  What  are  you 
kicking  about  ? 

Billy.  Because  I  don’t  see  what  right  you’ve  got 
to - 


(Enter  Trella  and  Elaine  up  c.  from  l.) 

Dick.  Now,  don’t  try  to  be  a  pig. 

Billy.  (Threateningly)  Say,  look  here  .  .  . 

Teddy.  (Who  thinks  his  predicted  “fracas”  has 
arrived,  comes  down  between  them  in  alarm)  Now, 
boys — boys - 

Dick.  (To  Teddy,)  What’s  the  matter  with  you? 

Teddy.  (Dramatically)  No  quarreling — no  quar¬ 
reling.  Remember  where  you  are. 

(Billy  goes  far  r.  Edgar  Moon  exits  l.) 

Dick.  (Laughing)  I  know  where  I  am,  all  right. 
(To  Patty,)  This  one  with  me,  Patty? 

(Trella  up  c.) 

Patty.  Surely.  (Patty  and  Dick  exit  l.) 

Teddy.  (Looks  off  l.)  That’s  cool. 

Trella.  (Goes  up  stage  c.)  Cool?  It’s  posi¬ 
tively  chilly. 

T eddy.  ( Over  to  exit  l.)  This  is  my  dance  with 
Miss  Simmonds,  anyhow! 

Trella.  Not  this  one;  she’s  dancing  with  Charlie 
Mason. 

Teddy.  Well,  I  wonder  where  I  come  in?  (Teddy 
exits  off  l.  Trella  follows  as  far  as  door ,  laugh¬ 
ing.) 

Elaine.  ( Coldly )  That’s  what  all  the  boys  seem 
to  be  wondering.  ( Crosses  to  divan.  Back  of  it.) 


66 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Billy.  (Gruffly)  Im  not  ...  if  that’s  what 
you  mean.  (Walks  straight  up  stage.) 

Elaine,  (r.)  I  didn’t  say  “you.”  (Doivn  r.  to 
divan. 

Trella.  (c.)  I  think  it’s  really  too  bad  we  let 
Miss  Slissy  go.  She  would  have  been  more  popu¬ 
lar  than  some  of  us. 

Elaine.  Dickie  Stanhope  seems  to  have  taken 
complete  charge  of  Miss  Mary  Anne  Simmonds  this 
evening. 

Trella.  (l.c.)  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like 
it? 

Billy.  ( c.)  That’s  one  of  Dickie’s  habits. 
Whenever  there’s  a  pretty  girl  around - 

Elaine.  (Spitefully)  Cheer  up.  perhaps  your 
turn  will  come  soon  again. 

Billy.  All  right.  I  wish  it  would.  (Exits  c. 
to  R.) 

(Elaine,  resentful,  sits  r.) 

Trella.  (Looking  after  him,  but  speaking  to 
ElaineJ  Well,  I  ask  you? 

Elaine.  He’s  acting  like  a  perfect  fool ! 

Trella.  A  fool,  my  dear — perfect  or  imperfect. 
( Comes  to  r.c .) 

WATCH  Music. 

Elaine.  (Crosses  to  l.u.  entrance)  And  per¬ 
haps  she  isn’t  the  sly  little  minx. 

Trella.  Turns  out  to  be  the  niece  of  Mrs. 
Drexel  Kirkland  and  trotted  about  by  Dickie 
Stanhope.  There’s  some  class  to  that  little  country 
maiden. 

Elaine.  She  was  dowdy  in  that  tea-shop  to-day. 

STOP  Music. 

Trella.  (Looks  l.)  But  she  certainly  is  stun- 


GOLDEN  DAYS  67 

ning  to-night.  When  Dickie  brought  her  in,  Billy 
almost  lost  his  balance! 

Elaine.  The  way  all  the  boys  are  falling  for  her 
is  simply  disgusting ! 

(Trella  sees  Mary  Anne  coming  and  warns 
Elaine.  They  both  go  r.  Mary  Anne  enters 
l.  with  Mason. ) 

Mary  Anne.  You  really  don’t  mean  that,  Mr. 
Mason. 

Mason.  (Stutters  occasionally )  Oh,  but  I  do.  I 
haven’t  enjoyed  a  dance  so  much  in  a  year.  I  don’t 
feel  at  home  with  many  girls.  Won’t  you  sit  down  ? 
Or  something?  (Mary  Anne  sits  divan  l.)  May 
I  take  that,  please?  (Takes  her  fan.  Fans  her. 
Edgar  brings  Frank  on  at  c.  They  gaze  at  Mary 
Anne  and  Mason  enviously.)  What  about  the  one- 
step? 

Mary  Anne.  I’m  sorry,  but  I  had  to  give  that  to 
Mr.  Henderson. 

Mason.  The  waltz  then? 

Mary  Anne.  I’m  afraid  I’ve  almost  promised 
that  to  Billy  Barclay. 

Mason.  That’s  too  bad — but  if  Billy  doesn’t  turn 
up,  that  waltz  is  mine,  remember.  I  must  have  an¬ 
other.  I  insist. 

Mary  Anne.  Well,  if  you  insist,  perhaps - 

Mason.  Thanks.  I’ll  go  find  Billy.  Maybe  he’ll 
trade  that  one  with  me.  You’ll  excuse  me,  won’t 
you?  (He  bows  very  stiffly  twice  and  exits  l.) 

(Edgar  advances  toward  Mary  Anne,  loses  his 
courage ,  laughs  awkwardly,  turns  and  runs  into 
Frank.  They  both  exit  in  confusion  at  L. 
Trella  up  c.,  laughs.) 


68 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Elaine.  How  popular  you  are,  Miss  Simmonds. 
(To  c.) 

(Trella  comes  down  r.c.J 

Mary  Anne.  You  think  so?  Thank  you!  The 
boys  are  very  nice  to  me. 

Elaine.  I  suppose  I  owe  you  an  apology. 

Mary  Anne.  For  what? 

Elaine.  For  my  personal  questions  this  after¬ 
noon.  They  must  have  been  embarrassing. 

Mary  Anne.  (Rises)  Why,  what  makes  you 
think  that? 

Elaine.  Of  course,  I  never  suspected  at  the 
time - 

Mary  Anne.  (Crosses  to  r.,  nervously)  Oh, 
that’s  all  right. 

Elaine.  How  is  it  we  have  never  seen  you  in  New 
York  with  your  aunt? 

Mary  Anne.  (At  a  loss)  Well,  I — I  haven’t 
come  out  yet.  (She  sits  r.  on  settee.) 

Elaine.  (Up  at  r.J  Oh,  I  see. 

Trella.  (r.c.)  That  was  rather  a  good  joke  you 
played  on  us  at  the  tea-shop.  ( Comes  c.) 

Mary  Anne.  Joke? 

Trella.  Yes — the  costume  you  wore  when  we 
called  there  for  tea.  The— hat,  you  know? 

Mary  Anne.  The  hat?  Oh,  yes;  that’s  a  won¬ 
derful  hat  to  wear  when  one  milks. 

Trella.  (Pause,  in  surprise)  Milks?  Cows? 

Mary  Anne.  Um — it’s  safer. 

Trella.  To  wear  a  hat  like  that?  Is  it  a  new 
idea  ? 

Mary  Anne.  Very  new.  I  was  trying  it  for  the 
first  time  today. 

Trella.  You  don’t  really  milk  the  beasts? 

Mary  Anne.  Cows?  Umph — hm.  But  the  hired 


GOLDEN  DAYS  69 

man  helps  me  sometimes.  He  wears  the  same  kind 

of  hat  I  do. 

Elaine.  Really  ? 

Mary  Anne.  The  same,  only  for  him  the  trim¬ 
ming  is  brighter.  (Pause.)  Of  course  the  cow  doesn’t 
wear  anything.  Perhaps  cow  styles  are  different  in 
New  York.  Are  they? 

Trella.  (Haughtily)  I  really  couldn’t  say. 
(Tosses  her  hand  and  goes  up  to  Elaine.J  She  has 
actually  been  spoofing  us.  ^Mary  Anne  giggles 
behind  her  fan,  realizing  she  has  come  out  ahead.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Enters  l.  as  Billy  Barclay  en¬ 
ters  r.  Mrs.  Kirkland  sees  Mary  Anne  and  goes 
to  her)  Here  you  are,  dear.  Where  have  you  been 
keeping  yourself?  Dickie’s  been  fairly  frantic. 
(Calls  off  l.)  She’s  here,  Dickie.  (To  Mary 
Anne,)  What  have  you  been  doing? 

Mary  Anne.  Having  such  an  interesting  conver¬ 
sation  with  Miss  Webb  and  Miss  Jewett. 

Elaine.  It  was  enlightening,  to  say  the  least. 
('Dick  enters  l.  Also  Edgar,  Annabelle  and 
Frank,  zvho  remain  until  Mrs.  Kirkland  ushers 
them  off  with  the  others.) 

Dick.  Marion  Simmonds,  how  dare  you  stay  away 
from  me  so  long?  (Dick  is  back  of  divan  l.  and 
Mary  Anne  crosses  and  kneels  on  it  to  face  him.) 

Mary  Anne.  ( Coquettishly )  Why,  did  you  miss 
me? 

Billy.  (Starts  across  to  Mary  Anne,)  Mary 

Anne,  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if -  (^Mrs.  Kirkland 

intercepts  him  and  gets  him  by  the  arm,  taking  him 
R.  against  his  will.) 

Mrs.  Kikrland.  (Laughs,  rounding  up  the 
others )  Oh,  Billy,  let’s  all  have  a  look  at  the  charm¬ 
ing  little  hotel.  Elaine,  Trella,  you  come,  too.  What 
an  innovation  for  Farmdale !  Your  father  deserves 
credit,  Billy.  (They  move  in  a  bunch  toward  R., 


;o 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Billy  almost  dragged  and  looking  back  jealously  at 
Dick  in  conversation  with  Mary  Anne.)  I  can  re¬ 
member  when  I  was  a  girl,  the  only  hotel  in  the 
town  was  the  Mansion  House.  Of  course,  in  those 
days  we  thought  it  pretty  good.  Is  this  the  office 
up  this  way?  ('Billy,  Mrs.  Kirkland,  Trella  and 
others  exeunt  r.  Chatter.  Mary  Anne  goes  c., 
laughing  at  Mrs.  Kirkland’s  tactics.) 

Dick.  ^ToMary  AnneJ  Well,  how  am  I  doing  ? 

Mary  Anne.  Splendidly. 

Dick.  Billy  was  so  furious  he  nearly  stood  on 
his  head. 

Mary  Anne.  (Alarmed)  Oh,  be  careful !  Don’t 
make  him  too  angry. 

Dick.  It’s  great  fun  though.  (He  looks  at  her.) 
My,  you  do  look  stunning  in  that  get-up! 

Mary  Anne.  (Pleased)  You  think  it  becomes 
me? 

Dick.  I  should  say  I  do. 

Mary  Anne.  (Ingeniously)  I  think  it’s  pretty  too. 
I  hardly  feel  acquainted  with  myself.  (She  sits  l.) 

Dick.  Mary  Anne  Simmons  meet  Miss  Marion 
Simmonds.  ('Mary  Anne  humors  the  mock  intro¬ 
duction.)  Gee !  Makes  me  feel  great  to  kind  of  boss 
you  around  this  way  and  in  front  of  the  fellows,  too. 
(Near  her.) 

Mary  Anne.  Auntie  says  you  have  hundreds  of 
girls  just  falling  over  themselves,  wishing  you’d  boss 
them  around. 

Dick.  Aw,  no,  I  haven’t.  There  isn’t  anyone 
cares  anything  about  me. 

Mary  Anne.  (Lightly)  Oh!  You  want  one 
that’s  in  earnest. 

Dick.  You  bet  I  do,  and  Billy  does,  too.  He's 
all  right,  at  heart.  He’s  just  easily  influenced,  that’s 
all. 

Mary  Anne.  (Eagerly)  You  think  so? 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


7i 


Dick.  Sure,  Elaine  and  Trella  and  that  crowd 
have  just  got  him  going.  He’ll  come  to  his 
senses — I’m  telling  you  he  will. 

Mary  Anne.  (Plainly  conveying  her  meaning) 
He  was — talking  to  me  just  now — about  old  times. 

Dick.  (Enthusiastically)  Then  it’s  working. 

Mary  Anne.  (Crosses  to  l.,  seriously)  Yes,  but 
somehow  he  didn’t  seem  quite  sincere. 

Dick.  He  will  be  when  we  get  through  with  him. 

Mary  Anne.  (Sits  l.)  There’s  no  one  you  may 
offend?  No - 

Dick.  (Laughing)  Girl,  you  mean?  I  should 
say  not! 

Mary  Anne.  (Interested)  Oh,  tell  me -  . . 

Dick.  Well,  it  was  my  first  year  in  high  school. 
(Pause.  Bus.)  She  was  about  seven  years  older 
than  I  was.  (Pause.)  I  used  to  ride  out  to  her 
house  on  my  bicycle ;  sit  on  her  front  porch,  in  the 
moonlight,  and  sing  songs  to  her,  tenor  and  bass. 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  you  sing  both  ? 

Dick.  I  did  then,  my  voice  was  changing. 

Mary  Anne.  Where  is  the  girl  now? 

Dick.  Married.  Got  three  children,  and  lives 
in  Elizabeth,  N.  J. 

Mary  Anne.  (Laughing)  Oh,  good  gracious — 
what  a  romance ! 

Dick.  Yes,  and  what  a  finish !  (Teddy  enters  c. 
from  r.  with  a  howl  of  punch.  Billy  follows,  carry¬ 
ing  a  tray  with  punch  glasses.) 

Teddy.  Punch.  Punch.  Who’ll  have  punch? 
fBiLLY  puts  the  tray  down  on  desk  up  r.) 

Dick.  Fine  idea,  Teddy,  where’d  you  get  it? 
(Iidgar  Moon  enters  at  l.J 

Teddy.  (Placing  howl  on  tray  at  desk  r.)  Spe¬ 
cial  brew  for  the  party.  (Dick  goes  up  r.  of  the 
divan  to  desk.) 


72  GOLDEN  DAYS 

(Lloyd  Henderson  and  Charles  Mason  enter  h.) 


Edgar.  (Calls  off  l.).  Hey,  punch!  Quantities 
of  punch. 

Mason.  (At  l.c.J  Miss  Simmonds,  what  about 

that  fox-trot?  That  last  one - 

Mary  Anne.  A  fox-trot,  Mr.  Mason?  I’ll  see. 
^Mason  looks  at  her  card.) 

Lloyd.  Hold  on!  Hold  on!  What’s  the  matter 
with  me?  f Edgar  circulates  behind  other  boys  with 
card.) 

Mason.  You!  Humph!  Between  Trella  and 
Patty  Ellison  I  thought  your  card  was  all  filled  up. 
Edgar.  So  did  I. 

^Teddy  conies  down  toward  Mary  Anne  with  glass 
of  punch.  Frank  and  Annabelle  enter  c. 
from  r .) 

Lloyd.  (To  MasonJ  Not  a  bit  like  it.  Go  run 
away  and  sell  your  papers.  You’ve  already  had  one 

dance  with  Miss  Simmonds — I’d  like  to - (Shoves 

Edgar.) 

("Mrs.  Kirkland,  Trella,  Elaine  and  Patty  en¬ 
ter  c.  Mrs.  Kirkland  and  Patty  go  down  r.  to 
settee.  Elaine  and  Trella  remain  up  c.  Billy 
goes  to  r.  of  desk  and  Dick  l.  of  it.) 

Teddy.  (To  boys  down  stage )  Here,  here,  talk¬ 
ing  about  dances.  Where  do  I  come  in  ? 

Mary  Anne.  (Takes  punch  and  sits  settee  l.c., 
sipping  it.) 

Mason.  (To  T eddy )  You?  You  lost  your 
chance. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


73 


Teddy.  Yes,  ’cause  you  sneaked  in  and  took  it. 

Edgar.  I  never  had  a  chance. 

Mason.  Well,  Dick  said - 

Dick.  ( Coming  down  r.  with  tzuo  glasses  of 
punch  for  Mrs.  Kirkland  and  Patty,  steps  in  be¬ 
tween  boys)  Never  mind,  Dick.  Punch,  boys, 
punch ! 

Teddy.  ( Glares  at  Mason,  then  goes  up  t .)  Til 
punch  somebody  in  a  minute. 

Billy.  (To  Elaine )  Will  you  have  some, 

Elaine  ? 

MUSIC  Ready  No.  5. 

Elaine.  (Coldly)  No,  thank  yon.  (Goes  far  r. 
Trella  is  l.  of  desk.  She  gives  punch  to  Teddy, 
who  comes  up.) 

Teddy.  (To  Elaine)  It’s  all  to  the  good.  I’ve 
already  sampled  it.  (He  goes  down  near  Mary 
Anne,  above  her .  Lloyd,  Edgar  and  Mason  go 
up.  Trella  gives  them  punch  and  they  go  back  near 
Mary  Anne.  Dick  goes  to  punch  bowl.) 

Patty.  It  snaps  up  one’s  appetite.  And  Billy 
has  a  lovely  supper  for  us  in  the  private  dining¬ 
room. 

Dick.  Fine !  That’ll  help. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Mary  Anne)  Having  a 
happy  time,  dear? 

Mary  Anne.  Wonderful! 

Lloyd.  The  only  trouble  is  Miss  Simmonds  is 
too  popular. 

Edgar.  (Ruefully)  That’s  the  trouble. 

Lloyd.  Danger  of  duels  and  all  that  sort  of  thing 
before  the  evening  is  over. 

Mary  Anne.  (Laughing)  Better  wait  for  the 
duel  till  it’s  moonlight.  They’re  ever  so  much  more 
thrilling  and  dangerous  when  you  can  see  straight. 

Lloyd.  Miss  Simmonds,  how  can  you  be  so  heart¬ 
less  ? 


74  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Teddy.  Have  you  no  pity  for  your  unfortunate 
victims  ? 

('Edgar,  in  background,  gives  an  audible  sigh.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Men  are  happiest  when  fighting 
for  their  lady-loves.  Why  pity  them?  (To  R.cJ 

(Mary  Anne  rises.) 

Dick.  (To  c.)  Happiest  moments  in  my  young 
life!  Anybody  want  to  fight?  ('Billy  glares  at 
him.  Dick  goes  c.  Looks  at  others  and  suddenly 
at  Billy,  who  is  up  r.) 

Lloyd.  Yes,  just  because  you  brought  her  to  the 
party. 

Edgar.  Lucky  dog! 

MUSIC  No.  5.  (Fox-trot.) 

(Lloyd  takes  Mary  Anne’s  glass  up  to  table  r.) 

Teddy.  (Goes  up)  Him  that  hath — gitteth. 

Mason.  (Looking  at  Dick)  A  natural  born  trou¬ 
ble  maker. 

WARN  Curtain. 

(Billy  comes  down.) 

Billy.  This  is  the  supper  dance,  Mary  Anne, 
may  I - 

Dick.  Supper  dance? 

Lloyd.  Now  wait - 

(All  boys  crowd  toward  Mary  Anne.J 

Mason.  Say,  listen - 

Frank.  But  look  here,  I - 

Edgar.  Well,  I’ve  been  trying  to  get  an  extra - 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Frank.  You’re  not  the  only  one. 

Mary  Anne.  ( Rises  to  c.)  I  can’t  dance  with 
all  of  you.  Which  shall  it  be? 

Mason.  Me. 

Edgar.  Me ! 

Frank.  Didn’t  I  ask  you  in  there? 

Edgar.  I  spoke  first. 

Lloyd.  No,  this  one’s  mine. 

(There  is  confusion.)  (Ad  lib  noise.) 

Teddy.  (Crowding  in)  Wait — wait — where  do  I 
come  in?  Like  the  little  gentleman  I  am,  I  have 

waited  patiently — silently - (They  push  him  out 

of  the  way.) 

Lloyd.  But  I  haven’t  had  a  single  one  yet - 

Dick.  (As  noise  becomes  a  hubbub ,  breaks  in) 
Boys,  boys,  Fm  sorry,  but  as  Fve  already  told  you — 
the  supper  dance  I  have  reserved  especially  for  my¬ 
self.  ( Offers  his  arm  to  Mary,  they  start  l.) 
Edgar.  Have  a  heart,  Dickie ;  have  a  heart. 

RING. 

Lloyd.  Don’t  be  a  goup. 

Mason.  What  do  you  want — the  earth? 

Teddy.  Where  do  I  come  in? 

(The  boys  follow  Dick  and  Mary  Anne  out  at  l., 
protesting.)  ("Billy  stands  irresolutely,  staring  off 
at  l.  after  crowd.  As  if  drawn  irresistibly  makes 
a  stride  forward,  the  girls  starting  nervously  in 
unison  with  his  step,  fearful  of  being  deserted  by 
the  last  man  present.  Another  step,  another  con¬ 
vulsive  start,  and  Billy  hastens  off  l.  to  join  the 
others.  Elaine,  Trella  and  Annabelle  are  near 
divan  r.  and  almost  collapse.  Patty  and  Mrs. 
Kirkland  at  l.  look  at  them  questioningly.  All 
this  without  a  moment  of  unnecessary  delay.) 

CURTAIN 


ACT  III. 


Scene  :  An  upper  reception  room  in  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land's  home,  in  the  Eighties,  near  Fifth  Ave¬ 
nue.  Up  c.  there  is  a  large  fireplace,  masked. 
Large  bay  windows  with  window  seats  look  out 
onto  the  street  from  either  side  of  fireplace. 
Large  doors  l.i.  and  r.i.  Through  the  windows 
flags  are  seen  displayed  from ■  windows  across 
the  street.  There  is  one  at  each  window  of  the 
Kirkland  house,  depending  from  flagpoles.  Be¬ 
ginning  r.  just  above  door  is  an  armchajr. 
Then  comes  a  Baby  Grand  piano,  open  and  with 
bench.  A  porcelain  jar  on  piano  with  flowers. 
A  small  chair  near  fireplace.  Pedestal  with  jar 
of  flowers  l.  Fancy  desk  with  light  chair  near 
door  l.  Large  candles  on  desk  in  polychrome 
holders.  Writing  materials,  including  plumed 
quill  pen,  are  on  desk,  also  a  small  framed  minia¬ 
ture  of  Mary  Anne.  Below  desk  against  wall 
is  a  low  stool.  At  c.,  facing  out,  is  a  huge  cush¬ 
ioned  divan  with  long  table  backing  it.  The 
bronze  statue  on  the  table  is  visible  from  front 
over  back  of  divan,  also  three  fancy  hat  boxes. 
There  is  a  bronze  clock  on  mantel  shelf,  also 
two  bronze  candlesticks  and  an  uklele.  Wall- 
brackets  and  piano-lamp.  No  chandelier.  Broad 
daylight  outside. 


76 


GOLDEN  DAYS  '  77 

Suggestion.  If  the  woodzvork  in  the  room 
has  the  lower  part  done  in  a  deep,  rich  brown 
going  into  old  gold  at  top ,  with  dark  velour  cur¬ 
tains  and  a  dark  room  carpet,  the  armchair  and 
divan  old  gold ,  the  piano,  desk,  desk  chair  and’ 
stool  in  mahogany ,  with  autumn  leaves  and  yel¬ 
low  chrysanthemums  in  the  jars,  the  rich  effect 
of  the  original  setting  will  be  duplicated. 

At  Rise:  There  is  music  out  r.  on  victrola. 
Discovered:  Mrs.  Kirkland  seated  at  desk  l. 
Billy  Barclay  standing  at  c. 

Billy.  How  long  did  you  say  she  had  been  gone, 

Mrs.  Kirkland? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  About  half  an  hour,  I  should 
say.  She  should  be  back  very  soon,  now. 

Billy.  (Pause)  It  was  rather  an  odd  move  on 
her  part,  don’t  you  think,  to  disappear  from  an  affair 
like  this  without  saying  a  word  to  anybody? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh,  Marion  told  me  she  was 
going.  You  see,  Dickie  Stanhope  is  looking  after 
her.  They  took  the  two  hunters  and  dashed  off  for 
a  ride. 

Billy.  (To  c.)  Did  they?  It  strikes  me  he’s 
taking  chances,  going  for  a  ride  today. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Writes  at  desk  l.i.  as  she 
talks)  The  officers  aren’t  particular,  so  long  as  the 
men  are  in  their  places  when  the  time  comes.  It’s 
their  last  day,  you  know,  and  they’re  everywhere 
with  relatives  and  friends. 

Billy.  I  suppose  I  shouldn’t  have  expected  any¬ 
thing  different.  A  civilian  has  no  right  to  be  but¬ 
ting  into  a  soldier’s  farewell-party  anyhow. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Cordially)  But  I  wanted  all 
the  young  people  to  be  here  and  join  in  giving  the 
boys  a  great  send-off,  Billy.  You  as  well  as  the  rest. 
Besides,  you’ll  be  a  soldier  yourself  before  long. 


78 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Billy.  You  mean  if  the  draft  goes  through. 
That’s  the  only  way  they’ll  get  me. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  ( Smiles )  You’ll  be  as  crazy  to 
fight  as  any  of  them  before  long. 

Billy.  I’d  be  crazy,  all  right. 

(Enter  Trella,  r.i.eJ 

Trella.  f'R.ij  Come  on,  Billy.  Elaine  is  ask¬ 
ing  for  you. 

Billy.  What  does  she  want? 

Trella.  She  says  she  promised  you  a  dance. 

Billy.  I  don’t  count  today.  Why  doesn’t  she  give 
it  to  one  of  the  others? 

Trella.  She  told  them  she’d  promised  you.  (She 
goes  to  window  R.c.J  My,  what  a  crowd!  All  the 
79th,  too.  They  join  the  main  parade  at  the  corner. 

Billy.  Mrs.  Kirkland,  when  Mary  Anne  comes 
in,  will  you  be  sure  to  tell  her  I  want  to  see  her — 
about  something  particular? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Yes,  indeed,  Billy. 

Trella.  (Down  R.J  Come  on  downstairs  and 
dance,  Billy.  It’ll  be  all  over  at  five  o’clock. 

Billy.  Oh,  all  right,  I’m  coming.  You  won’t  for¬ 
get.  will  you,  Mrs.  Kirkland? 

f Billy  and  Trella  exit  r.  Mrs.  Kirkland  exits 
l.)  /'Felice  enters  r.,  showing  on  Miss 
Slissy.)  (Victrola  dies  away.) 

Miss  Slissy.  (Looks  hack  toward  r.)  Is  that  a 
sort  of  tea-party  goin’  on  downstairs?  If  they  in¬ 
tend  invitin’  in  all  that  mob  I  saw  in  the  street - 

Felice.  Just  a  few  acquaintances  of  Madame  and 
Mademoiselle — boys  who  are  leaving  for  France. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  I  don’t  intend  to  stay  long. 
I’ve  got  a  card  somewhere  I  know  I  have.  I  had  sev- 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


79 


eral.  (Finds  envelope  and  takes  the  card  out,  hand¬ 
ing  it  to  Felice. )  When  Mrs.  Kirkland  gets  through 
seeing  who  it  is,  you  can  bring  that  back  to  me — if 
she  ain’t  noticin’.  (The  maid,  repressing  a  smile, 
exits  l.  Miss  Slissy  after  much  fussing  with  her 
attire,  sits  l.c.  She  soon  looks  about  in  curiosity 
and  becomes  interested  in  the  hat-boxes.  She  yields 
to  temptation  and  going  over  lifts  the  lid  from  one 
and  takes  out  hat.  Holds  it  up  and  viezvs  it  critically. 
She  gives  contemptuous  ejaculation.)  Humph!  (She 
peeps  into  the  second  box  after  replacing  the  first 
hat  and  is  just  putting  the  cover  on  the  third,  when 
Mrs.  Kirkland  enters  l.  Felice  follows  her  and 
exits  r.  Miss  Slissy  clears  her  throat  and  tries  to 
assume  a  careless  manner.)  Pretty  coverin’  on  these 
boxes.  Sort  of  wall-paperish. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Looking  at  card  she  holds) 
Miss  Sarah  Applegate  Slissy? 

Miss  Slissy.  Yes,  Mrs.  Kirkland.  How  do  you 
do  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Accepting  her  hand,  politely) 
I’m  very  well,  thank  you.  You  are  from  Farm- 
dale. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  kinda  thought  you’d  remember  me, 
seein’  as  how  Pm  the  milliner  and  dressmaker  there. 
Would  you  mind  tellin’  one  whether  them  beads 
you’re  wearin’  is  real  or  imitation? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Smiles,  amused)  Real,  I 
hope.  I  believe  I  have  heard  my  sister  speak  of 
you. 

Miss  Slissy.  She  ought  to  mention  me  favorable, 
after  all  the  fuss  I  went  to  in  turnin’  her  old  black 
dress  last  winter  and  not  askin’  half  as  much  as  she’d 
been  willin’  to  pay.  I  always  was  too  easy-goin’  for 
my  own  good.  Would  you  mind  givin’  that  card 
back  to  me  to  use  another  time? 


8o  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Certainly  not.  (Hands  it  to 
her.) 

Miss  Slissy.  I  ’spose  you  noticed  them  hand¬ 
made  flourishes  and  that  flyin’  dove.  Charlie  Wat¬ 
son,  the  barber  in  our  town,  is  awful  artistic.  He 
turns  them  out  between  shaves.  Visitin’-cards  like  he 
does  is  very  expensive. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  ( Kindly )  I  hope  I  returned  it 
to  you  uninjured. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  there’s  a  little  crack  across 
one  corner,  but  it  might  have  been  there  before.  Is 
Mary  Anne  at  home? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Not  yet,  she’s  out  riding.  But — 
won’t  you  sit  down? 

Miss  Slissy.  Can’t  stay  long.  Got  to  make  the 
four  o’clock  train.  I’m  in  the  city  on  business, 
though  mostly  I  prefer  Bridgeport  as  the  styles  there 
is  more  cosmopolitan,  but  I  thought  I’d  try  to  take 
in  Mary  Anne  this  time  so  I  made  it  New  York. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  That’s  very  kind  of  you,  I’m 
sure. 

Miss  Slissy.  Would  you  mind  my  peekin’  in  that 
end  hat  box,  seein’  as  I’m  in  town  to  get  the  styles? 
It’s  the  only  one  I  missed. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Not  at  all. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Takes  out  hat)  Hm,  it  looks  a  lit¬ 
tle  pert  for  you. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  It’s  Marion’s. 

Miss  Slissy.  Which  one  is  yours  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  They’re  all  Marion’s. 

Miss  Slissy.  All  four? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Yes. 

Miss  Slissy.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she  wants 
four  hats  all  at  once? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  she  never  wears  more 
than  two  at  the  same  time. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


81 


Miss  Slissy.  You  mean  she  wears  a  couple  of 
hats  on  her  head  instead  of  one? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  said  she  never  wore  more 
than  two. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  the  oftener  I  see  city  folks 
and  hear  ’em  talk,  the  less  I  understand  ’em.  I’m 
thankful  I  don’t  live  in  the  city. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  We  all  have  much  to  be  thank¬ 
ful  for. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Holds  up  the  fourth  hat)  I  s’pose 
you  gave  considerable  for  this? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  The  price  is  probably  marked 
inside. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Finds  it)  Eighty-five  dollars.  I 
could  duplicate  it  for  eighteen  and  make  money. 
Mary  Anne  wearin’  a  hat  like  that,  and  to  think  she 
used  to  be  a  Sunday  school  teacher  at  the  Farmdale 
Methodist  Church. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  she’s  still  eligible  for  that 
position.  Lately  much  of  Marion’s  time  has  been 
devoted  to  war  and  charity  work. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  dunno.  I  think  she’d  better  come 
back  home.  Her  Ma  ain’t  well.  When  I  was  sayin’ 
to  her  yesterday  that  I  didn’t  suppose  Mary  Anne 
would  ever  be  the  same  girl  she  was  before  Billie 
Barclay  threw  her  over — she  answered  me  in  such  a 
snappy  way — I  just  knew  her  nerves  was  all  to 
pieces. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Rises,  dismissingly)  Perhaps, 
Miss  Slissy,  the  next  time  you  come,  you  may  be 
fortunate  enough  to  find  Mary  Anne  at  home. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  ’spose  that’s  a  hint.  Oh,  that’s 
all  right.  I’m  used  to  ’em.  Your  man  asked  me 
when  I  rung  the  bell  if  I  was  one  of  the  folks  ex¬ 
pected,  and  seein’  you  have  company,  why - 

(Enter  Mary  Anne,  l.i.,  in  a  modish  riding  suit 
with  breeches,  her  hat  in  her  hand  She  is  radiant, 


82  GOLDEN  DAYS 

flushed  with  excitement.)  Land  sakes,  Mary  Anne ! 

Mary  Anne.  Hello,  Miss  Slissy!  Have  you  just 
come  in? 

Miss  Slissy.  No,  I’m  just  going  out.  What  on 
earth  have  you  got  on  ? 

Mary  Anne.  (Looks  at  herself)  Why,  what’s 
the  matter  with  it? 

Miss  Slissy.  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  ride 
straddle  ? 

Mary  Anne.  I  ride  a  man’s  saddle.  Everyone 
does. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  never  did  approve  of  ’em.  To 
think  of  you  bein’  able  to  stand  there  without  a 
blush,  showin’  your — my  goodness,  but  the  world 
does  change! 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  tell  me  about  mother.  When 
did  you  see  her  last?  How  is  she? 

Miss  Slissy.  Pretty  nervous,  if  you  ask  me. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  think  Miss  Slissy  just  imagines 
the  nerves,  my  dear.  Your  mother  wrote  me  yes¬ 
terday  saying  she  was  looking  forward  to  your  visit 
home  and  feeling  fine. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  hope  you’re  goin’  home  soon, 
Mary  Anne,  with  things  the  way  they’ve  been  with¬ 
out  you. 

Mary  Anne.  Why,  hasn’t  everything  been  all 
right  ? 

Miss  Slissy.  To  think  that  during  that  storm  last 
week  when  the  rain  broke  through  your  poor  Ma's 
spareroom  ceilin’,  she  was  all  alone  and  needin’ 
help. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  now,  that  is  too  bad. 
Marion,  if  you  had  been  there,  you  see,  you  might 
have  spread  yourself  over  the  roof  in  such  a  fashion 
as  to  have  kept  the  rain  from  coming  through. 
^Mary  Anne,  though  Mrs.  .Kirkland  keeps  a 
straight  face,  has  difficulty  to  restrain  a  giggle.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS  83 

May  I  send  you  up  some  tea  before  you  go,  Miss 
Slissy?  (Starts  toward  rJ 

Miss  Slissy.  Thank  you,  but  I  can’t  afford  to 
miss  my  train  for  a  cup  of  tea. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Have  you  a  taxi  waiting? 

Miss  Slissy.  No.  I  rode  in  one  once  and  it  gave 
me  heart  failure  watchin’  the  meter. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Presses  button  over  r)  I’ll 
send  you  to  the  station  in  the  limousine. 

Miss  Slissy.  Dear  me,  Mrs.  Kirkland,  I  always 
did  mention  you  to  the  folks  at  home  as  being 
rather  polite.  I  never  rode  in  one  of  them  things  in 
my  life. 

Mary  Anne.  Give  my  love  to  Mumsie,  and  kiss 
my  dog  Skeeters  on  his  old  woolly  head  and  tell 
him  I’ll  soon  be  there  to  give  him  a  shampoo,  won’t 
you? 

Miss  Slissy.  I  decline  to  kiss  a  dog. 

Mary  Anne.  Why,  Skeeters  wouldn’t  object. 

("Felice  enters  lJ 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Felice,  tell  Randolph  to  bring 
the  limousine  around  and  take  Miss  Slissy  to  the 
Grand  Central  Station. 

Felice.  Oui,  Madame.  (Goes  to  r.i.e.  and  exits) 

Miss  Slissy.  Dear  me,  I’m  glad  I  came ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Randolph  will  put  you  in  the 
car. 

Miss  Slissy.  Mary  Anne,  some  of  your  hats  are 
real  chic,  and  if  I  hadn’t  seen  you  in  that  riding  suit 
— but  of  course  I  won’t  say  a  word  about  it  to  any¬ 
one,  else,  but  wait  till  I  tell  your  mother !  Good-by  * 

Mary  Anne  and  Mrs.  Kirkland.  Good-by,  etc. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Mary  Anne,  laughing) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


84 

And  to  think  she  walked  right  into  it!  Well,  dear? 
How  about  the  ride. 

Mary  Anne.  We  got  the  horses  back  into  the 
barn  and  not  a  soul  saw  us.  I  sneaked  in  the  back 
way.  Dickie’s  sneaking  in  the  front.  The  roads 
were  wonderful !  The  horses  were  fresh  and  went 
like  a  shot. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  That  was  rather  daring  of  you 
to  steal  Dickie  away.  He  had  such  a  short  time. 

Mary  Anne.  But  we  wanted  one  last  ride  to¬ 
gether.  And,  besides,  Dickie  himself  proposed  it — 
and  it  was  such  fun!  You  know,  Auntie,  I  am  going 
to  miss  my  rides  with  Dickie — honestly. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Billy  Barclay  is  here. 

Mary  Anne.  ( Goes  to  divan  c.  and  slumps  down 
almost  on  her  shoulder-blades)  Yes,  I  know — he 
was  here  before  I  left. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  He  says  he  has  something  par¬ 
ticular  to  say  to  you. 

Mary  Anne.  You  know,  Auntie,  I’m  a  little  dis- 
pointed  that  Billy  isn’t  in  uniform. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh,  but  I’m  sure  he  will  be. 

Mary  Anne.  Dickie  looks  so  heroic  in  his. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Did  you  have  your  French 
lesson  this  morning? 

Mary  Anne..  Yes,  indeed,  and  Monsieur  Devoe 
feels  very  much  encouraged.  I  can  say  ‘‘Where  is 
the  penknife  of  the  gardener’s  aunt”  so  perfectly 
that  he  can  almost  understand  me.  ^Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land  laughs .)  Dickie  can  understand  my  French, 
almost  every  word  I  say. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Dickie  is  a  very  understanding 
young  man. 

Mary  Anne.  (A  shadow  on  her  face)  Auntie, 
do  you  suppose  it  will  last  a  very  long  time  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  We  all  hope  not,  dear. 

Mary  Anne.  It’s  terrible — so  many  going. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


85 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Happy-hearted  boys,  most  of 
them  ignorant  of  what  lies  ahead.  Going  into  that 
gigantic  struggle  as  carelessly  as  if  it  were  only  a 
football  game.  (Shakes  off  depression  for  Mary 
Anne's  sake.)  Now  don't  forget  your  music  lesson 
late  this  afternoon. 

Mary  Anne.  (Not  suspecting  Mrs.  Kirkland  is 
leading  her  away  from  the  subject)  Oh,  I  won’t  for¬ 
get  that ( Sadly )  There  won't  be  many  dances 

and  things  to  go  to  with  all  the  boys  away.  Lloyd, 
Charlie,  Teddy  Farnum — Dick.  (She  pauses,  deeply 
thoughtful,  then  starts  up  with  some  animation.) 
Auntie,  I  saw  Fannie  Merton  again  this  morning. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Sits  on  divan)  Your  little 
Salvation  Army  friend? 

Mary  Anne.  Yes.  She's  leaving  soon  to  go  over 
seas.  She  looked  so  earnest  and  capable  in  her  uni¬ 
form.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  big  to  help. 
She  made  me  feel,  somehow,  so  small  beside  her. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Why,  child,  you've  been  devot¬ 
ing  hours  and  hours  to  Red  Cross  work  and - 

Mary  Anne.  But  she's  going  over  there  to  be 
right  with  them,  near  them,  devoting  her  whole  life 
to  helping  them.  It  made  me  feel  sort  of  stranded 
and  left  behind. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Oh,  come  now!  All  your 
friends  aren’t  going,  and  most  of  those  who  are 
will  be  back  before  you  know  it. 

('Dick  enters  r.i.  He  is  in  uniform.  He  enters  with 
the  sense  he  is  being  folloived  and  glances  back 
once  in  a  while.) 

Dick.  (Brimming  with  life  and  mischief)  Hello! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  Dickie,  you  seem  to  have 
been  taking  full  advantage  of  your  last  few  mo¬ 
ments. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


86 


Dick.  You  bet!  (To  Mary  Anne.)  And  it  was 
some  ride,  too,  wasn’t  it? 

Mary  Anne.  Wonderful!  I  haven’t  got  my 
breath  back  yet. 

Dick.  From  now  on,  I’ll  probably  be  doing  my 
riding  in  a  box-car. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Crosses  to  r.)  Don’t  monopo¬ 
lize  Marion  too  long,  Dickie. 

Dick.  If  you  see  Billy  Barclay,  Auntie  Kirk,  tell 
him  where  I  am. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Dick,  you’re  making  that  boy’s 
life  a  burden. 

Dick.  ( Smiling)  Well,  it  was  your  idea. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Significantly)  Yes,  Dickie — 
that’s  the  way  it  began.  (She  exits  r.i.  Dick  looks 
puzzled .) 

Mary  Anne.  (Excited)  Was  he  following  you? 

Dick.  (Laughing)  He  was,  but  I  lost  him.  He 
thinks  I  went  into  tbe  dining-room.  I  did.  In  one 
door — out  the  other. 

Mary  Anne.  ( Giggles )  Isn’t  it  funny? 

Dick.  He  always  tries  to  appear  so  innocent,  too, 
when  he  catches  us,  with  such  an  “Oh,  I  beg  your 
pardon,  I  didn’t  know  anyone  was  here”  kind  of 
attitude — poor  old  Billy! 

Mary  Anne.  I’ll  tell  you  what -  (Laughs 

again.)  Let’s  wait  here  and  see  if  he’ll  find  us. 

Dick.  He  will.  I  don’t  know  who’s  been  kept 
busier — Billy  watching  us,  or  Elaine  watching  Billy. 
They’re  the  pop-eyed  twins  all  right. 

Mary  Anne.  (Apprehensively)  Oh,  she  might 
come  up,  too. 

Dick.  I  hadn’t  thought  of  that — she -  (He 

looks  r.  and  whispers  to  Mary  Anne.,)  Some  one’s 
coming  up  the  stairs  now;  maybe  it’s  Billy.  (They 
both  move  quickly  to  the  divan  c.  and  sit  close  to¬ 
gether,  he  in  a  very  attentive  attitude.  They  talk  to 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


87 

each  other  in  pantomime ,  especially  designed  for 
Barclay’s  entrance.  No  one  enters.  Dick  turns  his 
head  slowly  and  looks'  r.,  then  rises ,  tip-toes  to  r., 
and  looks  down  the  stairs.)  No,  I  was  mistaken. 
It’s  no  one. 

Mary  Anne.  (With  a  sigh  of  relief)  Phew,  don’t 
give  me  a  fright  like  that  again ! 

Dick.  What  was  I  saying? 

Mary  Anne.  About  Elaine - 

Dick.  Oh,  yes.  It  will  be  all  the  better  if  she 
does  come  looking  for  Billy.  I’ll  leave  you  alone 

with  him  and — then -  (A  good  thought  strikes 

him.)  I’ll  bring  her  up. 

Mary  Anne.  (Alarmed,  arises)  Oh,  goodness, 
no — don’t  do  that ! 

Dick.  Why  not  ? 

Mary  Anne.  It — it  looks  so  deliberate.  (Rises.) 

Dick.  Yes,  she  might  get  on.  I  wouldn’t  be  sur¬ 
prised  if  she  is  already  the  way  we’ve  been  hitting 
it  up. 

Mary  Anne.  (Musingly)  We  have,  haven’t  we? 
I’ve  felt  sorry  for  you  sometimes. 

Dick.  Sor/y  for  me,  why? 

Mary  Anne.  You’ve  made  yourself  such  a  martyr 
to  the  cause. 

Dick.  ( Smiling )  Don’t  mind  me,  I  like  it. 

Mary  Anne.  Such  a  rush  of  theatres,  dances, 

country-clubs,  horseback  rides -  Oh,  it’s  been  too 

thrilling  for  words — but  hard  on  you ! 

Dick.  Never  had  such  fun  in  all  my  life! 

Mary  Anne.  (Sadly)  And  now  you’re  going 
away. 

Dick.  (Looking  R.J  Sh — here  he  comes,  on  the 
level,  this  time.  (They  assume  positions  once  more 
on  the  divan,  in  intimate  conversation.) 

Mary  Anne.  Wait!  (With  sudden  inspiration 
she  gets  uklcle  from  mantelpiece.  They  sit  in  former 


88 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


position  and  Dick  strums  Hawaiian  melody ,  then 
strikes  chord  to  begin  song.  Mary  Anne  starts 
ahead  of  time.  He  tells  her  (ad  lib)  to  wait,  then 
strikes  chord  again.) 

Both.  (Sing) 

“Farewell  to  you 
My  own  true  love - ” 

(In  the  middle  of  the  strain,  Billy  enters.  He 
stands  r.,  looking  at  them  glumly.) 

Both.  “Thou  charming  one  who  dwells  amid 
bowers - ” 

Billy.  (Breaking  in)  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  didn’t 
know  anybody  was  here. 

Dick.  (Briskly)  Oh,  hello,  Billy,  come  in!  Just 
sneaked  up  for  a  cigarette.  Have  one? 

Billy.  No,  thank  you. 

Both.  (Singing) 

“One  fond  embrace 
Ere  you  now  once  more  depart.” 

Billy.  Pretty  room  this,  isn’t  it  ? 

Dick.  (Careless)  Yes?  Isn’t  it? 

(They  continue  the  song.  Billy  listens  a  moment.) 

Billy.  (Acidly,  to  DickJ  Yes.  I — I  just  said 
it  was. 


(Singing  proceeds.) 

Dick.  (Stops.  Playing  with  him )  Nice — pictures 
on  the  wall — and  everything.  ^Billy  makes  pretense 
of  looking  around  at  the  pictures.)  Nice — ah !  Nice 
air,  too.  Cosy  sofa. 

Both.  (Sing  again)  “Until  we  meet  again.” 

Mary  Anne.  (Seeing  the  situation  and  anxious 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


89 

to  save  Billy  from  embarrassment )  Oh,  won’t  you 
sit  down,  too,  Billy  ?  ( She  moves  over  l.  on  divan.) 
Billy.  (More  cheerful)  Thanks. 

(Billy  comes  over  to  sit  between  Dick  and  Mary 
Anne,  but  Dick  innocently  moves  over  l. 
Billy  is  forced  to  sit  r.J 

Mary  Anne.  (Looking  across  Dick  at  Billy J  I 
haven’t  seen  you  for  a  long  time.  I  guess  we’ve 
both  been  busy. 

Dick.  (Maliciously)  Yes,  haven’t  we?  (Idly 
picking  away  at  the  music.) 

Billy.  That’s  just  about  it — even  if  she  didn’t 
mean  it  that  way. 

Mary  Anne.  (Not  wanting  to  make  it  too  easy 
for  him )  But  perhaps  I  did,  Billy. 

Billy.  Did  what? 

Mary  Anne.  Perhaps  I  did  mean  it. 

Billy.  ( Floundering )  What  ? 

Dick.  Say!  This  is  getting  all  mixed  up,  isn’t 

it? 

Billy.  ,  (Wiping  his  forehead)  Yes,  it  is.  (There 
is  a  pause.  Dick  picks  idly.) 

Mary  Anne.  (To  Billy  in  a  formal  tone)  Did 
you  play  much  tennis  this  summer,  Billy? 

Billy.  (A  little  peeved)  No. 

Dick.  (Cheerfully)  We  did. 

Billy.  (To  Dick,  boastingly)  I  taught  her  how 
to  play  tennis,  you  know. 

Dick.  Ah,  did  you?  Thanks,  old  man.  (There  is 
an  awkward  silence.  Dick  lets  his  gaze  meander 
round  the  room  and  begins  to  play  idly.  Rises  and 
goes  r.J  Well,  I’ll  go  see  what  the  others  are  do¬ 
ing.  You’ll  excuse  me,  Billy? 

Billy.  (Rises)  But — but  look  here.  Just  a 
minute! 


90 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Dick.  Yes? 

Billy.  (Rushing  ahead)  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question — one  that  I  wouldn’t  ask  except  that  you’re 
going  away. 

Mary  Anne.  (Rises)  Oh!  Shall  I  go? 

Billy.  No,  don’t — it’s  about  you. 

Mary  Anne.  (Puzzled)  Me? 

Billy.  Yes.  I  wouldn’t  say  it  except  Dick’s  go¬ 
ing  away  and  I’ve  got  to.  (A  pause,  then  he  blurts 
it  out,  the  words  tumbling  over  each  other.)  Every¬ 
one  says  that  you  and  Dick  are  engaged.  Is  it  true? 

Mary  Anne.  (Frightfully  embarrassed)  Oh! 
Why — why,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing !  Of — of 
course  not!  We’re,  we’re  just  good  friends,  that’s 
all,  and,  and - 

Billy.  (To  Dick,)  Then,  on  the  level,  there’s 
nothing  between  you?  (Brief  pause.) 

Dick.  Mary  Anne  has  just  answered  your  ques¬ 
tion,  hasn’t  she?  She  has  said  we  were  just  good 
friends,  splendid  friends,  and  that  was — all.  I’m 

glad  she  has  spoken  out ;  it  is  only  fair  to -  ('Dick 

breaks  off,  not  knowing  how  to  finish.  He  pauses 
a  moment,  then  starts  r.) 

Mary  Anne.  (As  he  starts  away)  Dick!  I 
don’t  want  you  to  go.  Please  stay ! 

Dick.  Well,  I  think  I’d  better  go  now,  Marion. 
(Carelessly.)  I’ll  see  you  later. 

Mary  Anne.  (Starts  to  follow  him)  But, 
Dick - 

Billy.  ( Stops  her )  Mary  Anne,  please  !  ('Dick 
exits.  She  turns  back.) 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  how  could  you  ask  Dick  a 
question  like  that — “if — if  we  were  engaged” — right 
before  me — I — I  thought  I’d  die!  (She  covers  her 
face  with  her  hands.)  Oh,  what  do  you  think  a  girl 
is  made  of? 

Billy.  What  do  you  think  a  fellow  is  made  of, 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


9* 

that’s  what  I’d  like  to  know?  I’m  glad  I  said  what 
I  did  and  got  the  truth. 

Mary  Anne.  The  truth? 

Billy  Yes — that  you’ve  been  “putting  across” 
something — you  two — a  little  game  In  other  words, 
he  was  in  cahoots  with  you  to  wake  me  up — coax 
me  along  You  care  for  me,  and  he  knows  it. 

Mary  Anne.  I — I  haven’t  said  I  cared. 

Billy.  Long  ago  you  said  it -  ( Starts  for 

her.)  Mary  Anne. 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  wait — let  me  think ! 

Billy.  (Feels  in  pocket)  Well,  here’s  a  nice  lit¬ 
tle  ring  for  you  while  you’re  thinking.  (He  shows 
her  a  diamond  ring.)  I  don’t  want  to  boast,  but 
there’s  a  certain  other  young  lady  who  wouldn’t 
have  to  be  coaxed  to  put  it  on — but  you’re  the  girl 

for  me.  You  played  for  me — and  got  me.  Here - 

(He  tries  to  put  ring  on  her  finger.  She  shrinks 
back.) 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  no — not  now! 

Billy.  Well,  you  are  a  funny  one.  You  don’t 
deny  that  you  and  Dick  deliberately  tried  to  make 
me  jealous? 

Mary  Anne.  No — I  don’t  deny  anything,  but - 

Billy.  You  want  to  play  fair,  don’t  you? 

Mary  Anne.  Yes,  yes,  to  everyone! 

Billy.  Then  you’re  mine,  and  I’m  going  to  kiss 
you ! 

Mary  Anne.  No,  no! 

Billy.  (Arms  about  her)  Yes! 

Mary  Anne.  Don’t  you  dare — I’ll  never  speak 
to  you  again  if  you  do. 

Billy.  Now,  stop  fooling -  (He  kisses  her  in 

spite  of  protest.  Ad  lib  protest.  Mary  Anne  breaks 
away  angry.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Exits  to  R .)  Oh,  how  dare  you 


9 2  GOLDEN  DAYS 

do  that  to  me?  How  dare  you.  you  had  no  right, 
you - 

(Trella  is  heard  out  n.i.) 

Trella.  Oh,  come  on,  Elaine. 

Mary  Anne.  Trella!  Elaine — oh!  (She  starts 
for  door  l.,  hut  sees  she  won't  have  time  to  make  it , 
so  changes  her  mind  and  darts  hack  of  the  curtain  at 
window  r.c.  Billy  is  looking  r.  and  thinks  Mary 
Anne  has  left  the  room.  Trella  enters  r.,  fol¬ 
lowed  hy  Elaine.) 

Trella.  ("r.c.  to  Elaine)  Come  on — he  must 
be  somewhere.  (Sees  Billy.)  Yes,  here's  Billy! 

Elaine.  ("Trella  goes  up  c.)  I  wondered  what 
had  become  of  you.  ( Curiously.)  What  are  you 
doing  up  here,  all  alone? 

Billy.  (Grouchy)  I  haven't  been  alone.  Dickie 
Stanhope  and  Mary  Anne  were  here  just  now, 
but - 

Elaine.  (Spitefully)  But  Dickie  took  her  away 
as  usual.  I  should  think  you'd  be  tired  of  making 
a  fool  of  yourself  by  this  time.  (He  moves  to  r.. 
she  goes  to  him ,  Billy  to  l.)  Now,  Billy,  listen! 

Billy.  Oh,  let  me  alone. 

Elaine.  Well,  aren't  you  going  to  dance? 

Billy.  (Crosses  to  r.  and  exits)  No,  I’m  sick 
and  tired  of  this  place.  I’m  going  home. 

Elaine.  Billy - 

Billy.  Let  me  alone.  (He  brushes  past  her,  exits 
r.i.e.  She  sits  on  the  divan  c .) 

Elaine.  Oh.  I  hate  him  sometimes.  He’s  always 
doing  something  to  make  me  feel  ridiculous. 

Trella.  (On  end  of  divan)  You  don't  hate  him. 

Elaine.  (Sits  on  divan)  I  do.  I  do.  And  I 
hate  myself,  too. 

Trella.  Sh — don’t  talk  so  loud ! 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


93 


Elaine.  It’s  all  that  Marion  Simmonds,  fault. 

Trella.  Well,  I’d  let  her  have  him  if  I  were  you. 
There  are  plenty  of  men  who’d  be  glad  of  a  chance 
to  marry  a  girl  like  you. 

Elaine.  Oh,  yes,  I  can  sell  myself  to  that  ugly 
old  Dreyfuss,  I  suppose — or  that  common  Ridge¬ 
way — but  it  seems  as  if  it  would  kill  me. 

Trella.  Haven’t  your  folks  any  money  any  more, 
Elaine  ? 

Elaine.  Not  much.  I  guess. 

Trella.  Elaine! 

Elaine.  Mother  said  I  could  get  Billy  if  I  tried 
hard  enough.  And  I  was  willing  to  try,  because - 

Trella.  Because  you  loved  him  a  little,  too. 

Elaine.  And  he  loved  me — he  told  me  so — I 
hoped  I  was  going  to  win  for  father’s  sake,  but  I’m 
not.  Poor  dad ! 

Trella.  (Rises,  hears  some  one  coming  rJ 
Sh - 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  enters  r.  Elaine  rises  to  l.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  What’s  this — deserting  our 
boys  ? 

Trella.  (Down  r.,  confused)  Oh,  just  for  a 
moment. 

Mrs.  Kirkland,  (c.)  Has  any  one  seen  Marion? 

Trella.  Billy  said  she  was  here  before  we  came. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  suppose  she’s  in  her  room. 
Better  go  down ;  they’re  asking  for  you.  The  boys 
are  getting  ready.  (To  c.) 

Trella.  We  must  not  miss  the  Grande  Finale. 
Come  on,  Elaine.  ( Goes  R.J 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (As  she  goes  l.  Noticing 
Elaine’s  manner)  Don’t  you  feel  well,  Elaine? 

Elaine.  A  headache,  that’s  all. 


94  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I’m  sorry.  Can  I  get  anything 
for  you? 

Elaine.  No,  thank  you ;  I’ll  be  better  soon.  I’m 
going  back  to  the  others. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Trella,  make  things  lively  as 
you  can.  Ell  be  clown  before  long. 

Trella.  Righto!  “Lively V' the  word.  Come  on, 
Elaine. 

( Elaine  and  Trella  exit  r.  Mrs.  Kirkland  moves 
to  door  l.  Mary  Anne  parts  the  curtains  at 
r.c.  Mrs.  Kirkland  turns  and  sees  her.  Mary 
Anne  rushes  toward  her,  embarrassed  and  ex¬ 
cited.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Why,  Marion,  what  is  it? 
What  in  the  world  were  you - 

Mary  Anne.  Auntie,  I’ve  done  a  terrible  thing — 
overheard  something  not  meant  for  me  to  hear.  I 
couldn’t  help  it.  It  was  an  accident.  (Looking  off 
toward  door  r.)  Oh,  I  never  dreamed  it  all  meant 
so  much  to  Elaine ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  All  what,  child? 

Mary  Anne.  Her  keeping  on  with  Billy.  Her 

father -  (Interrupts  herself  to  pave  the  way  for 

her  request.)  Aunty,  I  wonder  if  you’d  do  some¬ 
thing  for  me  if  I  made  it  up  to  you  in  other  ways ; 
gave  up  music  and  French  lessons  and  lovely  hats 
and  gowns — and  everything  else  that  costs  a  lot  of 
money  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  ( Gently)  Try  me  and  see,  dear. 
You  make  it  sound  like  something  quite  serious. 
What  is  it  you  want  me  to  do  ? 

Mary  Anne.  Elaine  Jewett’s  father  is  in  trouble, 
big  trouble,  about  money  matters.  If  you  could  only 
think  of  some  way  to  help  him — put  him  on  his  feet 


GOLDEN  DAYS  95 

again — it  would  make  me  feel  so  much  happier — 
about  Elaine. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  at  least  I  can  inquire  into 
it.  And  all  for  Elaine,  eh?  Why  are  you  so - 

Mary  Anne.  Because  I’m  sorry  for  Elaine — 
sorry  I  teased  her  about  Billy — not  knowing. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Sorry  you  teased  Billy  Barclay, 
too? 

Mary  Anne.  No.  Yes.  I  don’t  know.  (Rests 
her  head  against  Mrs.  Kirkland’s  shoulder  in  child¬ 
like  bewilderment.)  Aunty,  I  don’t  know  what’s 
the  matter  with  me.  I  don’t  feel  the  same  about 
him  as  I  did.  I  don’t  know  what  it  is — but  it’s  dif¬ 
ferent. 

('Dick  Stanhope  bursts  into  the  room  from  r.J 

Dick.  Mary  Anne  Simmonds,  if  you  don’t  hurry 
up  and  change  those  clothes,  I’ll  be  dancing  down 
Fifth  Avenue  with  a  gun  on  my  shoulder  and  you’ll 
be  sorry - 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  good  gracious,  Dickie — I’ll 
hurry!  ^Mary  Anne  hurries  out  l.i.) 

Dick.  Excuse,  me,  Auntie  Kirk,  won’t  you  ?  I’m 
a  very  busy  man.  (He  dashes  off  r.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Back  of  table)  My  word! 
What  is  all  this? 

Dick.  (Off  r.i.e.,)  Hello,  Patty — when  did  you 
get  back?  Excuse  me,  I’m  in  an  awful  rush. 

('Patty  enters  r.i.eJ 

Patty.  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  Dickie  ? 
(Going  over.)  Hello,  Mrs.  Kirkland. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Hello,  Patty,  I  didn’t  think  you 
could  stay  in  Washington  with  all  this  going  on. 


9 6 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Patty.  (Both  sit  c.)  With  a  perfectly  good  fiance 
about  to  march  off  to  fight?  I  should  say  not. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Laughing)  I  don’t  blame  you. 

Patty.  You  know,  the  uniform  with  Teddy  inside 
of  it,  is  rather  more  than  I  can  withstand.  He  looks 
two  inches  taller.  I  just  stare  at  him  and  gasp.  I  can’t 
realize  it’s  Teddy  at  all.  Oh,  I’m  so  proud  of  him ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Patty,  I  do  believe  you’re  one 
in  a  thousand. 

Patty.  Me  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You’re  taking  it  just  as  I  would 
want  my  girl  to  take  it — if  I  had  one. 

Patty.  Why,  how  do  you  mean? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Smilingly)  Making  out  it’s 
just  a  lark.  You  see>  you  won’t  even  admit  it  to 
me,  but  I  know,  Patty,  just  what  you  are  doing. 

Patty.  (No  longer  trying  to  bluff)  Do  you? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Quite  simply)  Yes,  Patty. 

Patty.  I’m  glad  of  that.  I  did  want  to  tell  some¬ 
body.  You  see,  I  felt  that  it  was  up  to  some  of  us 
not  to — well,  not  to  let  go,  no  matter  what  hap¬ 
pened.  Of  course,  there’s  bound  to  be  those  who  do 
let  go  and  those  who  don’t.  I  used  to  be  one  of 
those  who  did  myself,  when  I  was  younger. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (With  a  smile)  How  old  are 
you — now  ? 

Patty.  (With  dignity)  Oh,  I’m  nearly  nineteen. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Nearly  nineteen ! 

Patty.  Perhaps  that  sounds  young,  but  it  isn’t 
— always. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  No?  How  old  is  Teddy? 

Patty.  (Importantly)  Teddy  is  twenty-one. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Nineteen  and  twenty-one. 
( Sighs  reminiscently.) 

Patty.  You  see,  I  know  there’ll  be  lots  of  times 
when  he’ll  need  some  one — and  I  might  as  well  be- 


Golden  Days”  See  page  99 


GOLDEN  DAYS  97 

gin  now,  at  the  hardest  time  of  all,  to  sort  of — well, 
to  sort  of  take  charge,  you  know. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Yes,  I  know,  dear. 

Patty.  It’s — well,  at  least  it’s  awfull  good  prac¬ 
tice.  But  there.  Eve  talked  enough  about  myself. 
Where’s  Marion? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  She’s  changing  her  dress.  It 
won’t  take  her  long. 

Teddy  Farnum.  (Outside  r.J  What-ho,  what- 
ho,  within ! 

Patty.  There’s  my  Teddy  Bear.  (Rises,  snatches 
off  hat  and  holds  it  high.)  Come  in,  Army.  ('Mrs. 
Kirkland  rises.) 

Teddy.  ( Enters  r.i.J  Hello,  Mrs.  Kirkland,  I’m 
awful  late,  but  I  had  so  much  to  do.  (He  glares  at 
Patty — crosses  to  lJ  I’ve  been  hanging  around  the 
Pennsylvania  Station  waiting  for  you  for  two  hours. 

Patty.  Have  you,  Teddy  darling?  Attention! 
Isn’t  he  wonderful,  Mrs.  Kirkland?  Won’t  the 
army  just  fall  dead  at  sight  of  him? 

('Teddy  stands  at  attention  for  a  moment,  then  to 
Mrs.  Kirkland.,) 

Teddy.  Mrs.  Kirkland,  what  do  you  think  of  her? 
Going  to  allow  a  perfectly  good  fiance  to  go  to 
France  without  the  joy  of  pressing  him  to  her  heart 
for  the  last  time  ? 

Patty.  I’m  afraid,  Teddy,  to  press  you  too  hard. 
You  might  break  in  the  middle. 

Teddy.  When  I  come  back  all  covered  with 
medals,  you’ll  be  sorry  for  treating  me  like  this. 

Patty.  Honest,  Teddy,  I  missed  the  Pennsyl¬ 
vania  and  had  to  come  on  the  Reading. 

Teddy.  No  wonder  I  waited. 


(Enter  r.,  talking  gaily  among  themselves,  Lt,oyd9 


98 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mason,  Trella,  Frank  and  Edgar.  All  the 
hoys  are  in  uniform.) 

Mason.  May  we  come  in? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Certainly. 

Annabelle.  Patty!  (Rushes  over  l.  to  embrace 
Patty.,) 

Trella.  Patty  Dear!  (Embraces  Patty  also. 
Chatter.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Annabelle,  Pm  glad  you  could 
come  after  all. 

Annabelle.  So  am  I. 

Lloyd.  It’s  a  foraging  party,  Mrs.  Kirkland. 

Teddy.  In  quest  of  food  and  things. 

Trella.  He’s  always  wanting  food. 

Teddy.  I  feel  like  an  empty  ship. 

Mason.  You  1-1-look  like  one.  (All  laugh.) 

Teddy.  '( Glaring  at  him)  Is  that  so?  (He  makes 
as  if  to  fight  with  Mason,  ad  lib.) 

Lloyd.  Where  is  the  radiant  Marion  Simmonds? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Changing  from  her  riding  habit. 

Annabelle.  It’s  the  duckiest  little  outfit  I  ever 
saw. 

Lloyd.  Well,  she  needn’t  have  changed  on  my 
account. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  have  tea  all  ready  for  you. 
Where’s  Dick? 

Edgar.  Smoking  on  the  veranda  when  I  saw  him 
last. 

Lloyd.  We  have  only  a  few  minutes  left. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Then  we  must  hurry.  ( Crosses 
to  R.  and  exits.) 

Lloyd.  (Turns  up  to  window)  Say,  how  far  do 
we  have  to  march,  Frank? 

Frank.  Across  the  briny,  and  then  some. 

Mason.  (Looks  at  wrist  watch)  Gosh,  we  only 
have  t-twenty  minutes. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


99 


Edgar.  Then  don’t  use  them  up  trying  to  talk. 

Trella.  I  don’t  see  why  we  girls  aren’t  invited 
to  the  station? 

Teddy.  Our  tender  hearts  could  not  withstand 
your  tears.  (All  laugh.) 

Mason.  You’ll  have  to  watch  us  march  off  from 
the  balcony. 

Lloyd.  Yes,  and  see  that  you  are  all  there. 

Edgar.  ( Suddenly  goes  to  c.)  The  Overseas  Glee 
Club  is  in  charge  of  the  music. 

Lloyd.  (Takes  a  tuning-fork  from  his  pocket, 
strikes  it  and  puts  it  to  his  ear,  then  emits  a  tone. 
Teddy,  Lloyd,  Edagr  and  Mason  crowd  together 
merrily.  In  harmony  they  sing  a  chorus  of  “Mer¬ 
rily  we  roll  along  ”  etc.) 

Patty.  (With  meaning)  I  thought  you  said 
“music”? 


(Enter  Mrs.  Kirkland  and  Felice.J 

Teddy.  Oh,  we  have  others  that  are  much  worse ! 

^Trella  laughs  and  goes  up  stage.  Teddy  goes  hack 
of  table.  Mrs.  Kirkland  and  Felice  bring 
in  tea-roller  service  and  sandwiches.  T ea-wagon 
is  rolled  to  R.  of  couch  c.  Things  lifted  to 
table.) 

Mason.  Oh,  look !  The  eats ! 

Lloyd.  (Down  l.cl )  The  baby  carriage — behold ! 

Teddy.  Child's  restaurant. 

Lloyd.  ( Still  sitting )  Lead  it  to  me ! 

Mason.  Nothing  like  this  in  F-France! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  ('Felice  exits  r.iJ  Boys,  put 
the  hat-boxes  under  the  table. 

(All  boys  scramble  to  do  this.  Trella  goes  round.) 


100 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mason.  S-setting  down  exercises.  (Takes  out  a 
hat.)  Dainty  confection,  eh,  what? 

Patty.  Marion’s?  (Trella  helps  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land.  ) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Nods)  Um -  (Teddy 

takes  the  hat  from  Mason  and  puts  it  on  his  head.) 

Patty.  Teddy  Farnum,  take  that  hat  off  this  in¬ 
stant  ! 

Teddy.  Am  I  not  an  alluring  creature? 

Patty.  (In  mock  seriousness)  Please,  Teddy, 
let  me  remember  you  pleasantly.  (All  laugh  at  this. 
Teddy  puts  the  hat  hack  in  the  box.  The  hoys  have 
stacked  them  behind  and  under  the  table.  Teddy\ 
puts  sections  of  sandwich  between  fingers.) 

Teddy.  Draw  a  card,  some  one - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Tea  is  ready.  Teddy,  give  this 
to  Patty. 

Teddy.  (Takes  cup  to  PattyJ  Gracious  lady! 
Just  a  sip ,  for  your  fair  lip. 

Patty.  (Accepts  it)  Thank  you,  I’d  prefer  a 
cupful. 

(As  Teddy  gives  cup  to  Patty,  Lloyd  goes  over 
with  cup  for  Trella,  back  of  piano,  r.  up.) 

Teddy.  (Points  to  cup  in  her  hand  where  a  small 
sandwich  rests  on  the  side )  Arrow  points  to  sand¬ 
wich.  (Begins  to  eat  sandwich  between  fingers.) 
Patty.  How  many  have  you  got? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Let  him  have  all  he  wants. 

(Any  time  in  here,  Mrs.  Kirkland  signals  to  Fe¬ 
lice,  who  exits  .r) 

Patty.  That’s  his  usual  number.  (All  laugh.) 
Lloyd.  (Lazily,  still  seated)  Isn’t  anybody  go¬ 
ing  to  help  me? 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


IOI 


Teddy.  (Taking  a  bite)  Yes,  this  is  yours. 
Lloyd.  (Decides  he  must  wait  on  himeslf)  Oh, 

well ! 

Mason.  No  more  chick  sandwiches  for  many  a 
moon. 

Teddy.  Speaking  of  moons - 

Edgar.  Sounds  like  a  music  cue ! 

Teddy.  I  wonder  if  the  moon  over  there  is  as 
white  and  round  as  the  one  over  here? 

Patty.  Yes,  and  makes  fellows  just  as  silly,  so 
you  be  careful! 

Teddy.  (To  Patty,)  Don’t  you  trust  me? 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  laughs  and  strolls  to  Trella  at 
piano  bench.) 

Patty.  Absolutely.  But  I’m  going  to  have  the 
boys  watch  you  just  the  same.  (All  laugh.) 

Lloyd.  ( Down  c.)  We’ll  see  that  none  of  those 
dark-eyed  French  girls  steal  him,  Patty, 

Mason.  Why  doesn’t  Marion  come? 

(Teddy  leads,  all  the  boys  join  in  the  college  yell.) 

Teddy,  Lloyd,  Edgar  and  Mason. 

Why  doesn’t  Marion  come? 

Why  doesn’t  Marion  come? 

We  want  Marion ! 

We  want  Marion ! 

We  want  Marion  Simmonds ! 

(Patty  laughs  and  goes  to  window  l.  Marion 
enters  l.  She  is  dressed  in  a  dainty  afternoon 
frock.) 

Mary  Anne.  Who’s  taking  my  name  in  vain? 
(The  boys  crowd  about  her.) 


102  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Boys.  (In  chorus.  Patty  comes  down  l.) 

Ah! 

I  am  the  guilty  party.  (Mason.) 

We  have  been  wishing  for  you.  (Lloyd.) 

We  bow  before  you.  (Teddy.) 

We  couldn’t  wait  any  longer.  (Edgar.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Playfully  slaps  head  of  the  kneel¬ 
ing  Teddy)  Where’s  Dick? 

(The  hoys  howl  in  rage.  They  go  up  stage.) 

Teddy.  That’s  what  we  get — “Where’s  Dick?” 

Patty.  Marion ! 

Mary  Anne.  (Sees  Patty  for  first  time)  Patty! 
(They  embrace.)  We  were  so  afraid  you  couldn’t 
get  here. 

Teddy.  I  wasn’t.  The  magnet — (Indicates  him¬ 
self) — is  sure  to  draw  the  needle — (Points  to  Pat¬ 
ty).  She  brings  great  news  from  Washington, 
Marion.  The  White  House  is  still  white. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Marion)  The  boys  have 
only  a  short  time  now,  dear.  We’re  having  tea  up 
here. 

Trella.  (To  Edgar)  Where  are  you  bound 
for?  Montreal? 

Edgar.  Search  me. 

Mary  Anne.  What  time  does  the  train  leave  the 
station  ? 

Mason.  Six.  We  start  from  the  corner  at  five. 

Mary  Anne.  (Looks  at  her  wrist-watch)  It’s 
fifteen  minutes  of  that  now.  Where’s  Dick? 

Teddy.  Why  the  anxiety  about  Dick? 

Mary  Anne.  (Sits  at  desk ,  facing  crowd)  Well, 
I — I  just  wondered. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  They’ve  been  such  good  friends, 
and  she  has  a  little  gift  for  him  on  leaving — that’s 
all. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


103 


Teddy.  Lucky  Dickie! 

Patty.  Teddy  Farnum,  didn’t  I  give  you  a  wrist- 
watch  ? 

Teddy.  Bless  your  little  heart — so  you  did! 
(Shows  the  company.)  Behold !  Size  six  and  seven- 
eighths. 

Mason.  (Shows  a  watch  on  each  wrist )  I  got 
two.  (Holds  both  wrists  down,  exhibiting .) 

Teddy.  His  third  will  be  worn  around  his  ankle, 
in  the  guard-house,  with  a  ball  and  chain  attach¬ 
ment. 

Mason.  Then  I’ll  have  to  watch  my  st-st-step. 
(All  laugh.) 


(Dick  enters  r.i.) 

Dick.  What’s  the  ha,  ha?  Am  I  missing  some¬ 
thing  ? 

Edgar.  You  never  miss  anything. 

Dick.  (Goes  l.  to  Mary  Anne,)  I  missed  a 
dance  that  was  coming  to  me. 

Mary  Anne.  I’m  sorry — it  took  me  so  long  to 
dress. 

Dick.  I’ll  forgive  you  this  time. 

Mary  Anne.  (To  c.,  above  table)  I’ll  get  you 
some  tea. 

(Trella  and  Lloyd  to  window  l.u.J 

Dick.  Thanks.  (He  goes  l.  Mary  Anne  goes 
over  for  tea  and  sandwiches .  Her  manner  is  full  of 
suppressed  excitement.) 

Mary  Anne.  One - (Holds  up  lump  of  sugar.) 

Dick.  Two.  It’s  getting  close  to  us. 

Trella.  (At  window,  looks  down)  My,  that’s 

a  jolly  crowd ! 


READY  Bugle. 


104 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Dick.  They  won’t  be  so  jolly  two  days  out  on 
the  ship.  I  know  I  won’t ! 

Lloyd.  I’m  ready  now  for  anything. 

Teddy.  I’ve  been  ready  for  a  month. 

Mrs.  Kirkland,  (c.)  Dickie,  you  must  take 
care  of  all  my  boys. 

Dick.  That’s  a  pretty  big  commission,  Auntie 
Kirk,  but  I’ll  do  my  best. 

Mary  Anne.  (Sadly)  You  haven’t  much  time 

now. 

Dick.  (Cheerfully)  No — not  very  much. 

(Pause.) 


Lloyd.  Patty — don’t  look  so  sad. 

Patty.  I’m  not  sad — I  may  not  like  it — but  I’m 
smiling. 


(Anyone  who  plays  goes  over  to  piano  and  rattles 
off  “ By  the  Sea.”  Mary  Anne  and  Mason, 
Patty  and  Teddy,  Lloyd  and  Trella,  Edgar 
and  Annabelle  begin  to  dance.  As  Mary 
Anne  dances  across  to  l.  a  bugle  note  is  heard. 
All  stop  abruptly.  The  girls  much  affected,  the 
boys  apparently  careless.) 

BUGLE. 

Dick.  That’s  it.  (Crosses  to  window.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Now,  boys,  don’t  forget  to  drop 
us  a  line  whenever  you  can,  all  of  you.  We  shall 
be  interested  in  every  step  you  take. 

Mason.  Oh,  we  will! 

Edgar.  Sure ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Where  are  your  kits? 

Teddy.  My  people  took  mine  to  the  station  in  the 
car. 

Lloyd,  Mine,  too. 

Mason.  M-m-me,  too. 

Trella.  (At  window)  The  boys  are  getting  into 

line. 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


io5 


(Mason  and  Edgar  go  over  to  Mary  Anne  and 
shake  hands.  Lloyd  says  good-bye  to  Mrs, 
Kirkland.  Patty  to  Teddy. ) 

Patty.  Now,  remember,  Teddy,  you  telegraph 
me  from  wherever  the  boat  leaves. 

(Dick  says  good-bye  to  TrellaJ 

Mason.  Good-bye,  Marion. 

Mary  Anne.  Good-bye  and  good  luck. 

(Lloyd  goes  over  to  Mary  Anne.  Mason,  Ed¬ 
gar,  Patty  and  Teddy  form  group  r.) 

Lloyd.  I  want  to  be  in  on  that,  Marion. 

Mary  Anne.  I  almost  wish  I  were  going  with 
you. 

Lloyd.  I  guess  we  all  wish  that. 

(Teddy  comes  over  to  Mary  Anne.  Lloyd  to  r.) 

Mary  Anne.  Come  back  all  covered  with  med¬ 
als,  Teddy. 

Teddy.  Wait  till  you  see  me.  IT1  look  like  the 
hero  of  a  Mexican  revolution.  (They  shake  hands.) 

(Frank  comes  for  farewell.) 

Mary  Anne.  Keep  on  smiling,  Frank. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  We’ll  go  down  with  you. 

(Dick  goes  to  Mary  AnneJ 

Mason.  So  long,  Mary. 

(Teddy  sings  a  few  bars  of  “So  Long,  Mary.” 
Edgar  joins  at  conclusion.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


106 

Dick.  Well,  good-bye,  Mary  Anne. 

Mary  Anne.  The  time  has  come  at  last,  hasn’t 
it  ? 

Dick.  Yes. 

Teddy.  Coming,  Dick? 

Dick.  I’ll  be  right  with  you. 

Lloyd.  We’ll  walk  on  slow. 

Teddy.  Gee!  I  feel  funny! 

Lloyd.  So  do  I. 

Mason.  I  hope  nobody  cries  at  the  station ! 

Teddy.  So  do  I.  I’m  close  to  it  myself. 

(By  this  time,  Patty,  Teddy,  Trella,  Annabelle, 
Edgar,  Lloyd,  Frank,  Mason  and  Mrs.  Kirk¬ 
land  are  out  of  the  room  r.,  leaving  Dick  and 
Mary  Anne.  She  is  at  window  l.  Dick  moves 
near  to  divan  down  c.) 

Dick.  (With  poorly  assumed  cheerfulness, 
slowly)  Our  little  make-believe  romance  is — is  just 
ended,  that’s  all. 

Mary  Anne.  Ended -  (Faintly)  Yes. 

Dick.  (Bracing  up)  But  we’ve  had  great  times 
together,  haven’t  we? 

Mary  Anne.  Yes — we  have.  (Facing  each 
other,  they  pause,  and  then  start  to  speak  together) 

Mary  Anne  and  Dick .  (Together) 

Well,  I - 

Do  you  think - 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  I — I  interrupted  you— didn’t 

I? 

Dick.  No.  I — I  wasn’t  going  to  say  anything. 

Mary  Anne.  There’s  so  much  one  wants  to  say 
— one  can’t  think  of — of  anything. 

Dick.  Except  the  bully  good  times  we’ve  had. 

Mary  Anne.  And  how  kind  you’ve  been. 

Dick.  No,  how  kind — how — kind  you've  been. 


GOLDEN  DAYS  107 

Mary  Anne.  It  seems — like  a  dream.  I  just 
can’t  realize  that  you’re  going. 

Dick.  (Cheerily)  I  can’t,  either,  but  I’m  on  my 
way. 

Mary  Anne.  You’ll  take  good  care  of  yourself 
over  there?  Promise  me  you  will. 

Dick.  Yes!  Sure!  You  promise — too! 

Mary  Anne.  Of  course.  (She  pauses.  In¬ 
stinctively  they  step  closer  to  each  other.)  I  shall 
be  thinking  of  you. 

Dick.  (Earnestly)  And  I  shall  be  thinking  of 
you,  Mary  Anne. 

Lloyd.  (Outside  rJ  You’ve  got  just  three  min¬ 
utes,  Dickie. 

Dick.  I’m  coming. 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  wait — they  mustn’t  go  till  I’ve 
given  you  your  presents. 

Dick.  For  me? 

(Mary  Anne  runs  to  window  l.c.  and  brings  down 
large  box,  unwrapped.  They  sit  on  the  divan. 
Produces  articles  as  she  talks.) 

Mary  Anne.  A  sweater,  see?  I  made  it  myself. 

Dick.  Oh,  that’s  great! 

Mary  Anne.  And  the  muffler — and  mittens — I 
hope  the  thumbs  are  large  enough.  (Hands  each 
separately.) 

Dick.  Oh,  sure! 

READY  Band. 

Mary  Anne.  (Disclosing  the  big  surprise )  And 
here,  a  little  kit  bag  and  medicine  chest,  combined. 
See  there,  needles  and  thread.  A  pair  of  scissors. 
Things  to  shave  with.  (Points  to  bottles)  That’s 
quinine ;  that  is  flaxseed,  for  poultices,  you  know. 
And  put  one  in  your  eye  if  you  get  anything  in  it. 
This  is  peroxide,  antiseptc.  Isn’t  it  complete? 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


108 

Dick.  Wonderful !  And  you  did  all  this  for 

me? 

Mary  Anne.  It  was  great  fun !  I  tried  tc  think 
of  everything. 

Dick.  There’s  only  one  thing  you’ve  forgotten. 
Something  I  should  like  above  all  these. 

Mary  Anne.  What? 

Dick.  It  won’t  be  complete  without -  Well, 

I’d  like  to  have  your  picture. 

Mary  Anne.  ( Flustered )  A  picture  of  me? 
Good  gracious  !  Really  ?  ( She  looks  about  help¬ 

lessly.  Sees  an  ivory  miniature  of  herself  on  the 
desk  at  l.  Gets  it.)  Here,  you  may  have  this  one. 
It  belongs  to  Aunty,  but  she  won’t  mind. 

Dick.  (Looks  at  it  tenderly)  Thank  you,  Mary 
Anne.  I  shall  keep  it  with  me  always  for  good  luck. 
(Puts  it  in  inside  pocket.  Band  far  away  on  Fifth 
Avenue  heard • — “Stars  and  Stripes.”  Dick  con¬ 
tinues  slowly)  We  won’t  say  good-bye — just  au 
revoir. 

(Mary  Anne  hands  him  the  package,  all  in  one 
box.  He  holds  it  under  one  arm.) 

Mary  Anne.  Yes — just  au  revoir.  (She  puts 
her  hand  in  his.) 

Teddy.  ( Outside )  Come  on,  Dickie ! 

WARN  Curtain. 

(Dick  looks  at  Mary  Anne.  He  resists  a  desire 
to  kiss  her  and  crush  her  in  his  arms.  Bends 
over  and  kisses  her  hand  instead,  turns  and 
exits  out  of  the  door  r.  quickly — taking  his  pres¬ 
ents  with  him.  Mary  Anne  stands  dazed , 
looking  at  the  hand  which  he  has  kissed.  The 
sound  of  the  music  becomes  louder.  The  par¬ 
ade  is  nearing  the  corner.  Outside  r.,  Mrs. 
Kirkland  is  heard  as  Dick  passes  her.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


109 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Au  revoir,  Dickie  boy.  Better 
hurry — you’ll  be  court-martialled. 

(Trella,  Patty,  Annabelle,  Felice  and  Mrs. 
Kirkland  enter  r.  and  rush  to  windows.  Mrs. 
Kirkland  speaks  to  Mary  Anne.J 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Come,  dear,  we  can  see  them 
from  here  splendidly. 

Patty.  Isn’t  it  wonderful?  Dear  boys! 

(Band  is  now  quite  forte,  a  strong,  stirring  march 
tempo,  as  the  girls  stand  at  window.) 

Trella.  (Excitedly  at  window  r.c.J  There’s 
Lloyd.  He’s  waving  his  hand  to  us !  (They  wave 
their  handkerchiefs  in  return.) 

Patty.  (After  a  pause,  excitedly)  There’s 
Teddy — there’s  Teddy!  (Pause.  They  wave  their 
handkerchiefs  frantically.  Then  Patty  wipes  a 
tear  from  her  eye.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  There’s  Dick — look,  Marion — - 
there’s  Dick! 

FIRST  Ring. 

(Mary  Anne,  who  has  held  her  position,  gazing 
vacantly  at  her  hand ,  now  brings  it  against  her 
cheek  and  crumples  down  into  a  little  heap  be¬ 
fore  the  sofa.  Her  aunt  goes  to  her,  alarmed. 
The  band  is  forte,  and  the  others  continue  wav¬ 
ing  their  hands.) 

SECOND  Ring. 


CURTAIN 

(At  Picture,  Mrs.  Kirkland  is  beside  Mary  Anne, 
lifting  her.  Distant  band  is  still  heard.) 


no 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Note. — As  the  band  begins  faintly  in  the  distance , 
let  them  play  just  the  easy  moving  part  of  the 
march  which  is  called  the  “trio”  They  can  re¬ 
peat  this  and  keep  it  up  through  the  picture. 


ACT  IV 


Scene:  Same  as  Act  I.  June ,  1919. 

Discovered:  At  rise  Betsy  is  standing  at  the  win¬ 
dow  l.,  looking  out  l.  She  has  a  rag  in  her 
hand ■  and  a  pail  stands  on  the  floor.  Miss 
Slissy  enters  the  door  l.  She  has  her  sewing- 
bag  on  her  arm,  with  materials,  etc. 

Note  :  Make  such  changes  in  arrangement  of 
things  as  might  happen  in  two  years.  Have 
pail  of  water  at  l.ie.  Letter  in  tobacco- jar  on 
mantel. 

Miss  Slissy.  Where’s  Mis’  Simmonds,  Betsy? 

Betsy.  Out  to  the  hen-house,  I  think. 

Miss  Slissy.  I  came  to  finish  that  new  waist  I’m 
making  for  her.  Do  you  know  what  she  done  with 
the  pattern  ? 

Betsy.  It’s  on  the  sewing  machine  upstairs. 

Miss  Slissy.  (Goes  r.  to  table)  Mary  Anne’s 
expected  home  to-day,  ain’t  she? 

Betsy.  (Dusting  ornament)  Yep. 

Miss  Slissy.  Bessie  Hamper — telephone  opera¬ 
tor — said  that  Mrs.  Kirkland  had  a  long-distance 
call  from  New  York  sayin’  Mary  Anne  was  on  her 
way  down  here  by  automobile.  Her  ship  got  in 
early  this  morning  from  France. 

Betsy.  (Nodding)  Uh  huh. 

Miss  Slissy.  It’s  about  time  she  was  cornin’ 
home.  She  ain’t  writ  her  mother — (Sits  l.  of  table 
Hi 


1 12 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


R.J — very  often  since  she’s  been  away.  Jed  Dooley, 
the  rural  delivery  man,  was  tellin’  me  only  yester¬ 
day  that  he’s  only  brought  her  ma  seven  letters 
from  France  in  a  year  and  a  half,  and  three  of  ’em 
was  censored. 

Betsy.  She  had  eight. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  one  more  or  less  don’t  make 
much  difference.  Of  course  I  ain’t  sayin’  it  wasn’t 
patriotic  of  her  to  go  over  with  that  Sal  army  unit 
and  help  nurse,  but  I  do  think  she  ought  to  have 
writ  her  ma  oftener  and  told  her  more  gossip. 

Betsy.  She  wasn’t  nursin’. 

Miss  Slissy.  What  was  she  doin’,  then? 

Betsy.  She  was  in  a  cantoon,  or  somethin’. 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  it’s  all  the  same.  One  gives 
’em  medicine  to  make  ’em  well  and  the  other  gives 
’em  chocolates  to  make  ’em  sick  again.  I  done  my 
bit  right  here  at  home,  singin’  at  benefits  and  one 
thing  or  another.  (Betsy  sighs.)  What’s  the  mat¬ 
ter  with  you,  Betsy,  you’re  lookin’  kinda  droopy 
lately  ? 

Betsy.  I  dunno.  I  guess  it’s  because  I’m  sleepy. 
(Sits.)  I  had  to  sit  up  till  half-past  nine  last  night 
waiting  for  Mrs.  Kirkland. 

Miss  Slissy.  (To  c.)  Yes,  there’s  nothin’  like 
losing  sleep  to  cause  a  girl  to  fade.  You’d  better  be 
careful,  ’cause  you’re  the  kind  that  fades  early. 

Betsy.  What  are  the  kind  that  don’t? 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  take  me,  for  instance.  I 
looked  just  the  same  ten  years  ago  as  I  do  now. 

Betsy.  (Innocently)  Wasn’t  that  too  bad ! 

Miss  Slissy.  What’s  that?  Huh!  (Exits  R.) 

(Betsy  looks  out  of  the  window,  smiles  and  nods  to 
someone,  and  coyly  wipes  the  window  ledge 
with  the  rag.  Mrs.  Simmonds  enters  l.  The 
door  stands  open,  set  hack  with  a  stone.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


1 13 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Crosses  to  far  r. — puts  flow¬ 
ers  on  organ)  I  do  nothing  but  drive  that  speckled 
rooster  out  of  the  geranium  bed.  There  he  was 
struttin’  through  it  for  the  seventh  time  to-day. 
(Looks  at  Betsy,  who  works  c.)  Mary  Anne  hasn’t 
telephoned  again,  has  she?  (Front  of  table  r.  to 
R.C.J 

Betsy,  (c.)  No’m. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  She  ought  to  be  here  by  now. 
I  declare  I’m  getting  so  nervous  I  can  hardly  keep 

still  a  minute 

Betsy.  Miss  Slissy’s  upstairs. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  What  does  she  want? 

Betsy.  That  new  waist  she’s  makin’. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  If  she  could  only  make  it  with¬ 
out  havin’  to  try  it  on  me  so  much,  I’d  be  thankful. 
She  gets  me  standin’  so  I’ve  got  to  listen,  and  nearly 
talks  me  to  death.  (Crosses  r.  and  around  table.) 

Betsy.  I  suppose  she  wants  to  be  here  when 
Mary  Anne  comes.  ( Goes  l. ) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  There’s  no  “supposing”  about 
that.  Wipe  off  the  chairs,  Betsy.  Sister  Maria 
will  be  down  in  a  minute,  and  if  she  noticed  there 
was  any  dust  on  anything  it  would  give  me  nervous 
prostration,  she’s  so  neat.  (Betsy  jabs  at  the  chair 
standing  l.  and  misses  it.  Mrs.  Simmonds  goes 
above  table  L.)  The  chairs,  I  said,  child.  I  didn’t 
ask  you  to  fan  flies.  What  does  possess  you  to  fuss 
around  that  window?  Is  it  Henry  again? 

Betsy.  Yes-sum. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  What’s  that  fool  hired-man 
doin’  that  you  can’t  even  turn  your  head  this  way 
when  I’m  talkin’  to  you  ? 

Betsy.  Smilin’. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  He’s  got  just  about  enough 
brains  as  would  keep  that  speckled  rooster  from 
falling  off  the  fence,  and  no  more.  (To  c.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


1 14 

Betsy.  (Wipes  chair ,  kneeling ,  hut  manages  to 
keep  an  eye  out  of  the  window)  A  speckled  rooster 
ain’t  so  bad,  scratchin’  around  makin’  a  livin’  for  a 
family. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (c.)  Sometimes,  Betsy,  you 
say  things  so  idiotic  that  they  almost  sound  sen¬ 
sible. 

Betsy.  (Pulls  chair  to  her  and  rubs  the  top  part 
and  the  seat)  I’m  absent-minded  in  the  spring  of 
the  year. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  ’Tain’t  only  in  the  spring,  child. 
(To  c.)  Though  I  do  notice  that  you’re  slacker 
than  usual  in  the  last  few  days.  What’s  the  rea¬ 
son? 

Betsy.  ( Drawls ,  staring  out  l.)  I  dunno. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  think  you’re  lookin’  at  it 
now,  and  I  don’t  intend  to  stand  any  more  of  it. 
(She  moves  to  window  l.c.  and  calls  off  l.  Pulls 
Betsy  to  c.  Betsy  works  above  table  l.)  Henry! 
Stop  that  hoein’  and  go  out  to  the  barn  and  clean 
off  the  horses  till  I  tell  you  stop.  Ari  if  the  horses 
is  cleaned  off  already,  clean  off  the  cows.  Do  some¬ 
thin’  to  take  you  out  of  sight  of  this  house.  (To 
Betsy,)  Now  mebbe  you  can  ’tend  to  your  work. 
(Crosses  to  c.) 

Betsy.  Yes-sum.  (She  rubs  again  at  l.  chair  of 
table  l.,  then  pauses,  thinking.)  Mrs.  Simmonds, 
if  you  was  a  single  girl,  and  had  loved  a  man  for 
two  years  and  he  loved  you,  and  wouldn’t  ask  you, 
what  would  you  do  ? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Wearily  sarcastic)  I’d  take 
him  by  the  ear  and  souse  his  head  in  the  rain-water 
barrel  till  he  did  ask  me.  (Crosses  down  r.  Turns 
to  go  as  Mrs  Kirkland  enters  r.) 

(Betsy  looks  at  Mrs.  Simmonds  a  few  moments, 
then  out  the  window;  then  with  determination 
throws  down  the  cloth  and  exits  l.) 


GOLDEN  DAYS  115 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Enter  rJ  No  sign  of  Mary 
Anne  yet? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  None,  and  she  ought  to  have 
been  here  half  an  hour  ago. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  crosses  to  window.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (c.)  Land!  How  I  have 
missed  that  girl!  I’ll  never  let  her  go  away  from 
me  so  long  again. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Sits  l.)  Amanda,  did  Mary 
Anne  ever  mention  Dickie  Stanhope  in  any  of  her 
letters  ? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Dick  Stanhope ?  No — why? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Sits  l.)  I  was  just  puzzled, 
that’s  all.  Her  early  letters  to  me  were  full  of  his 
name — and  then — suddenly — not  a  word  about  him, 

(Miss  Slissy  enters  r.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Land,  I  dunno.  I  can’t  under¬ 
stand  her  sometimes.  She  doesn’t  seem  to  know 
her  own  mind.  She  carried  on  for  months  to  get 
Billy  Barclay  to  ask  her,  and  when  she  could  have 
him,  didn’t  want  him. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  warns  her  that  Miss  Slissy  is  in 
the  room.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Talkin’  about  Mary  Anne? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Crosses  to  l.)  No,  we  wasn’t, 
Sairey  Applegate  Slissy. 

Miss  Slissy.  Goodness  knows,  I’ll  be  glad  to 
see  Mary  Anne  when  she  gets  here.  I  s’pose  she’ll 
have  a  wonderful  lot  of  tales  to  tell.  (Mrs.  Sim¬ 
monds  about  to  sit  in  chair  l.  of  table  r.  To  Mrs. 


n6 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Simmonds )  Do  you  mind  seein’  if  this  waist  is 
the  right  width  across  the  back? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  s’pose  not,  though  you  meas¬ 
ured  me  twice  yesterday. 

('Miss  Slissy  moves  over  to  Mrs.  Simmonds,  who 
rises  and  turns  for  her.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Do  you  wear  those  felt  slip¬ 
pers  for  comfort,  Miss  Slissy? 

Miss  Slissy.  (Puttering  with  the  waist )  Well, 
I  hope  you  don’t  think,  Mrs.  Kirkland,  that  I  wear 
’em  for  any  dishonorable  purpose.  Gracious  me, 
Mrs.  Simmonds !  I  believe  you  grow  broader 
through  the  shoulders  right  along.  I’m  afraid  I’ll 
have  to  set  a  piece  in.  (Pins  the  waist  to  Mrs. 
Simmonds  as  she  measures.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Ouch!  Don’t  puncture  my 
spine.  I  may  need  it. 

Miss  Slissy.  Excuse  me.  Stout  people  is  so 
near  the  surface!  Anyhow — (To  Mrs.  Kirkland,) 
— I’m  so  used  to  sticking  myself  I  think  other  folks 
don’t  mind  it.  (Laughs  and  continues  her  work.) 
I  always  wondered  if  Mary  Anne  went  to  France 
on  account  of  any  disappointment  in  particular. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  That’s  nothing  that  need  worry 
you  nor  the  village,  Miss  Slissy. 

Miss  Slissy.  Please  stand  still,  Mis’  Simmonds. 
I  almost  stuck  you  again. 

(Betsy  enters  from  l.  over  the  porch.  She  is  wet 
and  excited.) 

Betsy.  (Breathlessly)  It’s  all  right,  Mis’  Sim¬ 
monds!  It’s  all  right!  (To  l.cJ 
Mrs.  Simmonds.  What's  all  right? 

Betsy.  Henry  says  he’ll  marry  me,  but  I  had  to 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


ii  7 

duck  him  in  the  rain-water  barrel  twice  before  he’d 
promise.  (Wrings  water  out  of  her  sleeves.  Mrs. 
Kirkland  laughs  and  rises.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Horrified)  For  the  land 
sakes,  she. did  it!  (Steps.)  She  actually  went  and 
did  it,  just  because  I  told  her  to ! 

Betsy.  ( Crosses  to  c .)  He  kicked  somethin’ 
awful,  but  I  held  him.  Don’t  you  reckon  I’d  ought 
to  have  a  new  dress  to  get  married  in? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  s’pose  so,  child.  You  and 
Henry  might  as  well  get  the  agony  over. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Smiling)  That  means  I’m 
due  for  a  wedding  present.  What  would  you  like 
me  to  give  you,  Betsy? 

Betsy.  I’d  like  a  silk  nightgown — silk  all  over! 
(Turns  and  speaks  to  Miss  Slissy J  Thursday  is 
my  afternoon  off.  if  you  want  to  fit  me  then. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Crosses  to  table  l.)  Well,  just 
take  Miss  Slissy  to  your  room — to  finish  bastin’  my 
waist.  You  can  have  her  time  for  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon. 

READY  Horn. 

(Betsy  goes  r.  Miss  Slissy  follows.) 

Miss  Slissy.  (At  r.  in  intense  undertone )  Betsy, 
where  is  that  rain-water  barrel  ? 

Betsy.  (Confidential  tone)  Back  of  the  wood¬ 
shed.  Why? 

Miss  Slissy.  I  want  you  to  show  me  how  you 
done  it.  (Betsy  exits  r.,  followed  by  Miss  Slissy.J 

(Slight  pause.  Horn  l.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  There’s  a  motor  now ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (c.)  Perhaps  it’s  Mary  Anne. 
(Goes  below  table  lJ 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Goes  to  window  c.)  They’ve 


1 18 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


stopped  at  the  gate.  There’s  Patty,  Teddy,  Billy — 
Here  they  all  are!  No,  I  don’t  see  Marion. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I'm  surprised  at  Billy  Barclay 
coming  here ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  hope  nothing’s  happened  to 
detain  her. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  hope  not. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  exits  out  the  door  l.  There  are 
confused  sounds  of  greeting  outside  l.  Mrs. 
Kirkland  enters  with  Elaine,  Trella,  Lloyd 
and  Patty J 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  What  on  earth  is  it  all  about? 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  and  girls  to  r.c.,  below  table.  Ad 
lib.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Where’s  my  Mary  Anne? 
Patty.  (l.c.J  She’s  a  mile  or  two  behind  us. 
Lloyd.  Charley  Mason  is  bringing  her  in  his  car. 
Trella.  You  ought  to  see  Charlie.  He’s  grown 
so  masterful. 

Patty.  She  doesn’t  know  we’re  here.  The  others 
drove  around  the  back  in  Edgar’s  car. 

(Teddy  and  Billy  enter  lJ 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Well,  of  all  things! 

Billy.  Hello,  Mrs.  Simmonds! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  How  do  you  do,  Billy?  I 
haven’t  seen  you  in  a  long  time.  Nor  you,  Teddy. 

Teddy.  (Crosses  to  c.)  We  couldn’t  resist  the 
temptation  to  wish  ourselves  on  you  folks  in  Farm- 
dale  when  it  meant  surprising  Marion! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Delighted  but  flustered) 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


1 19 

Goodness  me,  I  haven’t  got  a  thing  in  the  house  fit 
to  eat  for  a  surprise,  except  a - 

Lloyd.  (Down  r.  of  c.)  Don’t  worry  about  that, 
Mrs.  Simmonds.  We’ll  sneak  down  to  the  village 
and  get  a  couple  of  gallons  of  ice  cream  and  some 
cake.  (Crosses  to  window.) 

Trella.  You’d  better  hurry  and  get  the  car  out 
of  sight,  so  Mary  Anne  won’t  see  you. 

Lloyd.  (Lazily)  Aw,  we’ve  got  plenty  of  time. 

Teddy.  (Crosses  to  window)  We’ll  bring  the 
eats  in  the  back  way.  Come  on,  fellows.  (They 
exit  l.2 — Billy,  Teddy  and  LloydJ 

HORN  Ready. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Has  anyone  seen  or  heard  any¬ 
thing  of  Dick? 

Trella.  (r.  corner)  Well — ah - 

Patty.  ( Crosses  to  c.,  hesitates )  Oh,  yes,  Dick’s 
in  New  York — been  there  for  four  days. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Have  you  seen  him? 

(The  girls  are  trying  to  keep  a  secret.) 

Patty.  Yes — we  saw  him — for  just  a  few  mo¬ 
ments — 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Did  he -  (A  horn  is  heard 

in  the  distance.) 

HORN. 

Patty.  ( Crosses  to  l.)  There’s  Marion  now ! 
The  boys  will  just  about  make  it. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Good  gracious,  I’m  .so  excited! 
I  don’t  know  if  I’m  standin’  on  my  head  or  my 
heels ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Bring  the  others  in  through  the 
kitchen,  and  don’t  come  until  I  give  the  signal. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  You  can  stay  right  there  in  the 
dining  room,  if  you  girls  want  to  hide.  (Exits  L. 
window.) 


120 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Trella.  (To  Mrs.  Kirkland,)  Don't  give  the 
signal  till  the  boys  get  back.  (The  whirr  of  the 
motor  is  heard  off  l.) 

Elaine.  (To  Mrs.  Kirkland,)  Don’t  you  let 
on  now,  Mrs.  Kirkland. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Not  a  word! 

(The  girls  exit  r.  Mrs.  Kirkland  stands  c.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Off)  Oh,  Mumsey — Mumsey — ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Off,  emotionally)  My  little 
chickadee — my  little  lambkin!  (They  enter  l.  and 
embrace.) 

Mary  Anne.  Aunty !  ( She  runs  to  her.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  you  dear  little  darling! 

Mary  Anne.  Aunty,  aunty,  aunty !  Mumsie ! 
(Goes  to  mother  again.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Arms  about  her)  Mary 
Anne,  how  could  you  go  away  and  leave  your  mother 
all  this  time? 

Mary  Anne.  (Consoling  her)  I’m  here  now, 
darling — I’m  here,  I’m  here ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  But  if  anything  had  happened 
to  you - 

Mary  Anne.  (Smiling)  Oh,  I  felt  so  little 
compared  to  the  big  things  going  on  around  me,  I 
just  knew  a  bullet  would  have  hard  work  to  find  me. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Hysterically)  Oh,  darling, 
you  were  near  the  bullets? 

Mary  Anne.  It  was  all  in  the  game,  Mumsie, 
but  I’m  home  again. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  can  scarcely  believe  it’s  my 
Mary  Anne. 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  but  it  is!  (Laughs.)  And 
two  pounds  more  of  me  than  there  was  when  I  went 
away. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Bless  you! 


“Golden  Days”  &ee  Va9e  125 


■  2%. 


GOLDEN  DAYS  121 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  We’ve  been  proud  of  you,  dear, 
very  proud. 

Mary  Anne.  Not  of  me.  1  really  did  next  to 
nothing. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  You  just  say  that. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  It  seems  as  if  you  had  been 
gone  for  years  and  years. 

Mary  Anne.  Two  years,  Auntie — two  wonder¬ 
ful,  terrible  years.  ( Quick  change  to  lighter  man¬ 
ner)  Mumsie,  I’m  hungry !  May  I  have  something 

to  eat? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Yes,  we’re  going  to  have - 

(A  cough  from  Mrs.  Kirkland  reminds  her  not  to 
tell  about  the  guests.)  I’ll  get  you  a  slice  of  bread 
and  preserves. 

Mary  Anne.  Quince!  Good  old-fashioned 
quince ! 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I  just  opened  a  jar  of  it  this 
morning.  You  talk  to  your  aunt.  I’ll  bring  it  to 
you.  Bless  your  little  heart,  but  it’s  good  to  have 
you  home  again!  (Exits,  almost  weeping  with  joy.) 

Mary  Anne.  Good  gracious !  Charlie  Mason’s 
outside.  I’d  forgotten  all  about  him. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  He’ll  find  his  way  in.  Don’t 
worry. 

Mary  Anne.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  every  single 
thing  that  has  happened  since  I  went  away. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Affectionately)  Dear  child, 
just  having  you  here  makes  the  world  seem  normal 
once  more.  Well,  Teddy  Farnum  and  Lloyd  Hen¬ 
derson  have  been  home  a  long  time. 

Mary  Anne.  Yes,  Charlie  told  me  that.  He 
came  back  with  them. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Teddy  and  Patty  are  married. 

Mary  Anne.  Married?  Oh,  I’m*  dying  to  see 

them ! 


122 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mrs.  Kirkland.  Trella  and  Lloyd  are  engaged, 
and  so  are  Billie  and  Elaine  Jewett. 

Mary  Anne.  Yes,  I  knew  that. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  But  not  all  of  our  boys  came 
back.  You’ve ‘heard  about  Frank? 

Mary  Anne.  (Nods)  I  saw  him  being  brought 
in — poor  Frank! — his  very  first  day  in  action,  too. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  His  mother  has  been  very 
brave.  ( The  shadow  of  this  memory  makes  them 
pause  for  a  moment.) 

Mary  Anne.  Two  years  since  I  went  abroad, 
Auntie.  Two  wonderful,  terrible  years! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You  were  such  a  child.  We’ve 
found  it  hard  not  to  reproach  ourselves  for  ever  let¬ 
ting  you  go  into  the  midst  of  such  horrors. 

Mary  Anne.  But  you  couldn’t  help  yourselves! 
I  had  to  go  to  France,  something  made  me,  and  now 
it’s  all  over,  it’s  a  deep  and  sacred  memory  to  carry 
with  me  as  long  as  I  live. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Slowly  feeling  her  way) 
There’s  one  friend  we  haven’t  mentioned  yet — 
Dick.  You  never  ran  across  him,  I  suppose? 

Mary  Anne.  ( Shakes  her  head )  It  was  a  long 
time  before  I  even  had  news  of  him.  At  first  I  used 
to  picture  our  meeting  somewhere  on  a  dusty  road 
and  my  crying  out,  “Vive  l’America”  in  the  kind 
of  French  we  used  to  practice  when  we  rode  to¬ 
gether  in  the  park,  and  then,  when  he  came  over  to 
see  who  it  was,  I’d  turn  and  laugh  and  say,  “Don’t 
you  know  me,  Dick?  It’s  Mary  Anne!”  (Slight 
pause.)  Once  I  dreamed  of  finding  him  wounded 
out  there  in  No  Man’s  Land,  and  of  bending  over 
him,  saying  words  of  comfort  and  love - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Startled)  “Love,”  Mary 
Anne? 

Mary  Anne.  (Bravely)  Yes,  Aunty,  for  I  did 
love  Dick  Stanhope  with  all  my  heart.  I  knew  it 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


123 


after  he’d  gone  away  that  day  at  the  farewell  dance. 
And  even  though  he  doesn’t  care  for  me,  has  never 
cared - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  But  how  do  you  know  he  has 
never  cared? 

Mary  Anne.  A  letter  finally  reached  me  from 
him  after  months  of  waiting.  I  couldn’t  have  en¬ 
dured  the  humiliation  of  that  letter — if  my  life 
hadn’t  been  so  full  of  the  sufferings  of  others  just 
then,  that  it  gave  me  small  time  to  think  about  my¬ 
self. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Why,  what  on  earth  could  he 
have  said  to  you  ? 

Mary  Anne.  He  wrote  he  was  very  sorry  our 
little  game  had  turned  out  so  unfortunately  for  me. 
(Mrs.  Kirkland  makes  gesture  of  doubt.)  Yes — 
he  did,  Aunty.  You  see,  he  must  have  guessed  that 
I  had  grown  to  think  too  much  of  him,  and  when 
he  didn’t -  (Buries  her  face  in  her  hands.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  But  such  a  letter  doesn’t  seem 
like  Dick  at  all,  not  the  boy  I  knew  so  well.  I  can’t 
understand  it.  One  thing  is  certain,  it  must  not  be 
allowed  to  spoil  your  home-coming  now. 

Mary  Anne.  (Looks  up ,  bravely)  It  won’t — it 
shan’t.  I’ve  only  this  to  say,  Aunty:  I  couldn’t  be 
friends  with  Dick  again,  and  if  he  ever  comes  here, 
I  don’t  want  to  talk  with  him,  or  even  see  him,  I — I 
couldn’t  bear  it. 

(Charlie  Mason  enters  l.i.  He  is  now  very  mili¬ 
tary  and  very  masterful.  He  crosses  with  a 
firm  step  direct  to  Mrs.  Kirkland.,) 

Mason.  Hello,  Mrs.  Kirkland! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Rising)  Why,  hello,  Charlie! 

Mary  Anne.  Lieutenant  Mason,  now,  Aunty. 


124  GOLDEN  DAYS 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Good  gracious,  what  a  respon¬ 
sibility  ! 

Mason.  Well,  some  men  just  have  to  be  leaders. 

(The  crozvd  outside  r.  in  dining  room  begin  to  sing 
the  song  with  which  they  enter  in  a  moment. 
They  form  a  line,  hands  on  each  other’ s  shoul¬ 
ders,  in  the  position  they  retain  on  entering. 
Tune,  “John  Brown’s  Body.”) 

Mary  Anne.  Why,  what’s  that? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Goodness,  I’d  almost  forgotten ! 
Crowd.  (lively,  march  tempo) 

We  come  to  welcome  Mary  Anne  from  far 
across  the  sea. 

She  traveled  over  there  to  give  us  chocolates 
and  tea, 

And  now  we’re  just  as  happy  as  we  possibly 
can  be, 

For  Mary  Anne  is  home! 

(They  enter  r.  in  line,  each  with  the  left  hand  on 
shoulder  of  the  one  in  front  and  keeping  time 
with  the  feet.) 

Glory,  glory,  Ukulele, 

Glory,  glory,  Ukulele, 

Glory,  glory,  Ukulele, 

For  Mary  Anne  is  home ! 

(This  chorus  carries  them  once  around  Mary  Anne, 
who  stands  amazed  at  first  and  then  ad  libs, 
names  of  the  various  ones.  They  smile  and 
wave  their  hands  to  her.  She  is  in  the  center 
and  utters  little  “Oh!”  and  other  ejaculations 
of  surprise  and  joy.  At  the  end  of  the  song 
they  break  into  a  yell  and  crowd  around  Mary 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


125 

Anne.  When  the  yell  and  break  come,  she 
clasps  Patty  in  her  arms  and  the  others  crowd 
toward  them,  Edgar  and  Annabelle  included. 
Mrs.  Simmonds  enters  r.  with  large  floral 
doughnut.  Teddy  gets  it.) 

Mary  Anne.  Oh! — oh! — Patty!  Billy!  Elaine! 
Teddy ! -  (Then  comes  the  yell  and  rush  to  her.) 

Omnes.  Welcome,  Marion!  Welcome  home 
again !  Etc. 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  you  dear,  dear,  sweet  friends, 
every  one  of  you ! 

Teddy.  (Bearing  the  floral  offering.  He  is  very 
oratorical )  Gangway !  Gangway !  Allow  me,  on 
behalf  of  these  few  members  of  the  old  79th  and 
others,  to  present  the  little  doughnut  girl  with  a 
floral  doughnut,  in  appreciation  of  the  many  dough¬ 
nuts  we  received  at  your  hands  and  those  of  your 
lovely  sisters  in  France.  ( Cheers.)  Said  dough¬ 
nuts  coming,  as  they  did,  at  a  time  when  we  did  not 
have  the  dough  to  buy  a  nut  of  any  kind.  (Big 
laugh,  cheer,  etc.  Teddy  is  c.  to  Mary  Anne.) 

Edgar.  The  nut  is  mixing  his  doughnuts. 

Teddy.  With  our  love  and  the  love  of  every  boy 
who  went  to  France.  (He  hands  her  the  floral 
piece.) 

Crowd.  Hear !  Hear ! 

Mary  Anne.  Oh,  it’s  just  too  sweet  for  words! 

The  Crowd.  Speech!  Speech!  (Cries  of  “Yes 
— speech!”  etc.) 

Mary  Anne.  I  can’t  make  a  speech;  my  heart 

is  too  full -  (Her  mother  comes  down.)  Mum- 

sey,  isn’t  it  beautiful?  (Showing  her  emblem, 
weeping,  goes  to  mother.  Mason  works  over  to  l.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Goodness,  child,  I’m  so  choked 
up  I  can’t  say  a  word.  (She  takes  floral  piece.) 


126  GOLDEN  DAYS 

I’ll  put  it  on  the  mantel  where  everyone  can  see  it. 
(Goes  up  c.) 

Mary  Anne.  (To  Mrs.  Kirkland,)  Auntie, 
why  didn’t  you  tell  me? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Mary  and  up  to  Mrs. 
Simmonds )  And  spoil  the  surprise? 

Mary  Anne.  (To  Patty,)  Patty,  you  dear.  I 
want  to  congratulate  you  and  Teddy.  (Teddy  is 
now  R.  with  Patty.  Mary  Anne  gives  each  a 
hand.)  Pm  just  as  pleased  as  I  can  be. 

Teddy.  (Points  to  Patty )  Congratulate  her, 
Marion.  She  had  a  hard  struggle  to  land  me. 

(Mary  Anne  laughs  and  goes  over  to  Billy 
and  Elaine,  who  are  together.) 

Mary  Anne.  And  Billy  and  Elaine!  Pm  so  glad 
you  came  here  together.  I  knew  you  were  in 
France,  Billy.  You  were  billeted  within  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  of  “Old  Sal”  once,  but  I  did  not  find  it 
out  until  after  you  had  gone. 

Billy.  If  I  had  only  known  about  you,  Mary 
Anne,  I’d  have  risked  being  shot  at  sunrise  just  to 
shake  hands  with  you. 

(Mary  Anne  laughs  and  pauses,  looking  at  Elaine. 
There  is  a  moment's  hesitation  and  then  both 
girls  fling  themselves  into  each  other's  arms 
and  kiss.) 

Teddy.  Hear,  hear ! 

(All  laugh.  Mary  Anne  moves  a  little  up  to  Trel- 
la  and  Lloyd.,) 

Mary  Anne.  I  saw  you  when  I  got  off  the  boat. 


GOLDEN  DAYS  127 

I  felt  then  as  if  I  wanted  to  kiss  every  one  of  you. 

Lloyd.  (Shouts)  Do  it  now. 

Teddy.  (With  oratorical  enthusiasm)  Obey  that 
impulse.  (All  laugh  as  Mary  Anne  kisses  Trella 
and  pecks  at  Lloyd’s  cheek.) 

Edgar.  Repet  ez  vous,  Mademoiselle.  (The  others 
crowd  around  her.  Miss  Slissy  comes  down.) 

Miss  Slissy.  Well,  Mary  Anne— — 

Mary  Anne.  ( Runs  to  Miss  Slissy,  down  r.  and 
to  Betsy,  who  has  been  in  background  with  Miss 
Slissy )  Miss  Slissy !  And  Betsy !  It  isn’t  com¬ 
plete  without  you. 

Miss  Slissy.  Thanks,  Mary  Anne.  I  will  say 
I’ve  done  my  best  to  keep  your  mother  cheered  up. 

Betsy.  The  hired  man’s  quite  well,  thank  you. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  It’s  wonderful  to  have  all  you 
boys  home  again.  You’ve  done  so  much  for  us. 
Your  country  will  remember  you  for  a  long,  long 
time. 

Teddy.  That’s  right.  They  remembered  my 
grandfather  for  sixty  years.  He  had  a  civil  war 
claim  that  was  settled  week  before  last. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Well,  supper’s  ready  if  you’ll 
go  in  and  have  chairs.  Betsy  and  I  will  do  our  best 
to  wait  on  you.  (To  Slissy.J  It’s  all  spread  out  on 
the  dining-room  table,  Sairey,  and  if  you’d  care  to 
help  out  some - 

Miss  Slissy.  I’m  just  the  one  to  call  on.  Good¬ 
ness  knows  I’ve  had  enough  experience  at  church 
fairs  and  one  thing  or  another.  (She  follows 
Mrs.  Simmonds  and  Betsy  out  r.J 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  And  put  the  floral-piece  in  the 
middle  of  the  table. 

Teddy.  Let  me  bear  it  hence. 

Billy.  No,  let  me. 

Edgar.  My  strong  right  arm  is  rusting  from  dis¬ 
use.  (All  struggle  for  possession  of  floral  piece.) 


128 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Teddy.  (Wins  out  and  holds  floral-piece  high.)  I 
am  master  of  ceremonies  and  custodian  of  the  dough¬ 
nut. 

Mary  Anne.  Be  careful  of  it.  boys.  ("Elaine 
near  window  l.  signals  to  Dick  outside.) 

Lloyd.  I  brought  it  down  from  New  York. 

("Patty  and  Trella  makes  signs  to  Elaine,  who 
comes  to  Mary  Anne.  The  hoys  are  moving 
to  r.  with  floral-piece  ad  libing  badinage.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Come,  everyone.  (She  exits  r. 
the  boys  following.  Patty  and  Trella  go  r., 
Elaine  detains  Mary  AnneJ 

Elaine.  ( c.)  We’ll  be  there  in  a  moment. 

Patty.  Don’t  be  long.  ("Mary  Anne  looks  at 
Elaine  curiously.) 

Elaine.  We  won’t  be.  ('Patty  makes  a  sign  to 
Elaine  that  someone  is  outside  l.  Elaine  gets  this 
and  the  girls  exit  r.  After  they  are  off,  Elaine 
speaks.)  Marion,  I  want  to  tell  you  how  surprised — 
how  overwhelmed  I  was  when  I  learned  the  truth, 
and  when  I’d  been  so  hateful  to  you  always - 

Mary  Anne.  The  truth? 

Elaine.  About  my  father’s  rescue  from  losing 
every  dollar  he  possessed.  I  thought  at  the  time  it 
was  Billy’s  father  who  was  helping  him,  but  I  after¬ 
wards  found  out  it  was  your  aunt — and  that  she 
had  done  it  because  you  had  asked  her  to — for  my 
sake.  I  can  never  thank  you  enough.  I’ve  been 
so  sorry  and  ashamed.  Billy  knows  I  have.  (She 
bows  her  head.) 

Mary  Anne.  Don’t  speak  of  that,  Elaine.  Every¬ 
thing  is  all  right  with  you  and  Billy  now.  You’re  go¬ 
ing  to  be  happy.  And  I’m  so  glad  for  both  of  you! 

Elaine.  (As  she  and  Marion  go  toward  dining¬ 
room  together)  And  our  wish,  Marion — Billy’s 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


129 

and  mine — is  to  see  you  happy  also.  And — we  be¬ 
lieve  you’re  going  to  be. 

(They  exit  together  at  right .  Immediately  Mrs. 
Kirkland,  enters  at  r.  and  crosses  agitatedly 
toward  window,  then  down  to  door  l.  expec¬ 
tantly.  Enter  Dick  l .) 

Dick.  Hello,  Aunty  Kirk! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  I  thought  that  was  your  car  I 
saw  turning  into  the  road,  Dickie  Stanhope. 

Dick.  I  surprised  you,  didn’t  I? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Embarrassed)  Well,  yes,  you 
did.  Mary  Anne  has  company  and - 

Dick.  (Eagerly)  She’s  here? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Yes. 

Dick.  Good !  Which  way  do  I  go  to  find  her? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (In  pretended  surprise)  Oh, 
do  you  want  to  see  her? 

Dick.  Do  I  want  to  see  her?  I  should  say  I 
do,  and  pick  a  bone  with  her  for  not  answering  my 
letters.  I  tried  to  get  to  her  in  France — but  you 
know  how  things  were  there,  not  a  chance  in  a 
thousand.  Where  is  she?  (Starts  towards  dining¬ 
room.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Coming  between)  I’m  sorry, 
Dick,  but  I’m  afraid  you  can’t  see  Mary  Anne  to¬ 
day. 

Dick.  You  mean  she’s  ill? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Slowly)  No,  I  mean  I  don’t 
think  she  cares  to  see  you. 

Dick.  (Horrified)  Aunty  Kirk!  But  why 
shouldn’t  she?  What  have  I  done? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You  wrote  her  a  letter  that  hurt 
her  terribly. 

Dick.  (Downcast)  Then  my  letter  was  the 
cause  of  her  break  with  Billy? 


130 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mrs.  Kirkland.  No,  of  course  not.  She  broke 
with  Billy  before  you  left  for  France. 

Dick.  Then  how  could  my  letter  have  hurt  her 
so  much  ? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Because  of  the  insinuation  it 
carried.  You  said  you  were  sorry  you*  had  ever 
played  that  game  together. 

Dick.  (Impatient)  No,  not  that  letter.  I  wrote 
that  one  in  France. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Well,  that’s  the  only  one  she 
ever  received. 

Dick.  What?  Why,  no!  I  wrote  first  from 
Canada — a  long  letter — before  we  sailed.  In  it 
I  told  Mary  Anne  that  I  loved  her.  I  thought  that 
letter  had  fallen  into  Billy’s  hands  and  was  the 
cause  of  the  quarrel  between  them.  So  I  wrote, 
then,  I  was  sorry - 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You  wrote  Mary  Anne  first 
from  Canada?  Where  did  you  send  *that  letter? 

Dick.  Here. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Wait  a  minute.  (She  goes  to 
door  r.  and  looks  out,  beckons  to  her  sister.) 
Amanda!  Come  here  a  minute.  (Returns  to  Dick.,) 
I’m  almost  sure  she  never  received  that  Canada  let¬ 
ter.  (Mrs.  Simmonds  enters  r.  Betsy  enters  after 
her.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  Betsy,  pointing  l.)  Now, 

Betsy,  it’s  right  there  in  the  cabinet -  (Sees  Dick. 

Mrs.  Simmonds  goes  c.)  Oh,  how  do  you  do  Mr. 
Stanhope?  I’m  right  glad  to  see  you.  (Betsy 
looks  for  cake-knife  in  cabinet  lJ 

Dick.  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Simmonds? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Amanda !  (Betsy  works  over  l.) 
Do  you  remember  Mary  Anne’s  receiving  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Stanhope  before  she  went  to  France? 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (Shaking  her  head)  Not  that 
she  ever  told  me.  I  believe  she’d  have  told  me  if 


GOLDEN  DAYS  131 

she  did.  (To  Dick.)  Did  you  write  her  one? 
("Dick  nods.)  And  addressed  it - 

Dick.  Marion  Simmonds,  Farmdale — yes.  (To 
Mrs.  Kirkland .)  I  remember  the  letter  well.  It 
was  written  on  hotel  stationery  from  Quebec.  It 
was  a  patent  sort  of  an  affair  like  a  post  card.  Had 
a  picture  of  the  hotel  and  a  waterfall  on  it. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  No,  I  don’t  think  she - - 

Betsy.  ( Coming  c.)  I  got  that  letter. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You! 

Betsy.  I  thought  it  was  an  advertisement  with 
printin’  on  the  inside.  It’s  in  the  tobacco  jar  on  the 
mantel.  ("Mrs.  Kirkland  goes  to  tobacco  jar.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  What  in  the  world  did  you  put 
it  there  for? 

Betsy.  Well,  you  told  me  to. 

(Mrs.  Kirkland  gets  letter  and  brings  it  to  Dick.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  /  did?  (To  Betsy.)  What 
do  you  mean.  I  “told”  you  to? 

Betsy.  I  came  to  you  and  said,  here’s  an  adver¬ 
tisement  letter  for  Mary  Anne,  shall  I  give  it  to  her? 
And  you  said  “Certainly  not,  stick  it  in  Mr.  Sim¬ 
monds’  old  tobacco-jar  on  the  mantel  shelf.  What 
does  anybody  want  with  a  letter?” 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Land  sakes,  I  can’t  say  a  thing 
to  that  girl  that  she  doesn’t  take  me  literal.  ( Crosses 
r.  and  Betsy  moves  above  table  r.) 

Dick.  That’s  it  all  right.  (Hands  letter  back  to 
Mrs.  Kirkland.) 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (To  Dick)  And  you  said  in 
that  letter — all  you’ve  told  me? 

Dick.  More. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Takes  Dick  down  stage) 
Then  you  clear  out.  Hide  around  the  corner  of  the 
porch.  I’ll  send  for  Marion.  Betsy,  you  slip  in  and 


132 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


tell  Marion  quietly  that  I  *have  some  news  for  her 
and  want  to  see  her  at  once.  Don’t  mention  Mr. 
Stanhope  nor  say  anything  else. 

Betsy.  No’m! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  And  don’t  come  back. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  Mrs.  Kirkland)  Don’t 
say  that  or  she’ll  stay  away  forever.  (To  Betsy.) 
She  means  right  away.  (Pushing  Betsy  off  r.) 

Betsy.  Yes’sum.  (Exits  r.) 

Dick.  (Going  l.)  If  there’s  no  hope  for  me 
after  she’s  read  that  letter,  Aunty  Kirk,  step  to  the 
window  and  give  me  the  tip.  I’ll  climb  the  hedge 
and  vanish. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  You’d  better  not  vanish  too 
soon. 

Dick.  (Confidential  manner)  I’ll  be  right  at  the 
corner — by  the  rain-water  barrel.  (Exits  l.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  Land!  I  wonder  if  he  knows 
about  Betsy? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Perhaps  Mary  Anne  should 
have  given  him  that  treatment  long  ago.  (She 
laughs.) 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  (To  c.)  Don’t  talk  foolish¬ 
ness  ! 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Amanda,  when  Mary  Anne 
comes  down  try  to  look  as  though  nothing  had  hap¬ 
pened. 

Mrs.  Simmonds.  I’ll  go  back  to  the  young  folks 
in  the  dining-room,  I  don’t  know  a  thing.  (Exits 
r.  Outside  r.  she  meets  Mary  Anne.)  Go  on  in 
the  sitting-room,  child.  Your  auntie  wants  to  talk 
to  you.  ("Mary  Anne  enters  r.) 

Mary  Anne.  What  is  it,  Aunty? 

WARN  Curtain.  Ready  Chorus. 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  (Handing  Mary  Anne  the 
letter.)  Postmarked  Quebec,  Can.,  September  28th, 
1917. 


GOLDEN  DAYS  133 

Mary  Anne.  (Recognises  hand-writing)  A  let¬ 
ter  from  Dick — to  me? 

Mrs.  Kirkland.  Betsy  thought  it  was  a  post¬ 
card  and  stuck  it  in  the  tobacco-jar,  and  there  it’s 
been  ever  since. 

Mary  Anne.  No? 

(She  sits  l.  of  table  r.  reading  the  letter.  Mrs. 
Kirkland  steals  out  of  door  r.  Mary  Anne’s 
face  brightens  as  she  proceeds.  Dick  enters  l. 
and  watches  her.  She,  delighted  with  the  let¬ 
ter,  gives  an  ecstatic  exclamation  without  know¬ 
ing  he  is  there.) 

Mary  Anne.  (Looking  at  letter,  dreamily)  Dick! 

Dick.  (Hearing  his  name,  speaks  quietly  from 
across  the  room)  Yes? 

Mary  Anne.  (Slowly  rises  and  turns  toward 
him.  Speaks  in  half  whisper)  It’s  a  dream.  You’re 
not  real. 

Dick.  I’m  the  realest  boy  that  ever  came  back 
from  the  trenches.  (Involuntarily  she  attempts  to 
conceal  letter  behind  her.)  Yes,  I  know.  I  was 
here  in  the  room  when  Auntie  Kirk  found  that  tardy 
letter.  You  believe  what  I  said  in  it? 

Mary  Anne.  (Afraid  to  accept  her  happiness) 
It  was  written  a  long  time  ago,  Dick.  You  must 
have  changed  since  then. 

Dick.  Is  that  just  your  way  of  letting  me  know 
you  have  changed  towards"  me — that  you  cannot  for¬ 
give  that  other  stupid  letter?  ("Mary  Anne  does 
not  answer.)  Mary  Anne,  has  it  all  gone  by  forever? 

Mary  Anne.  (Earnestly)  Hasn’t  it? 

Dick.  Not  with  me:  There’s  nothing  I  wouldn’t 
do  to  bring  the  old  days  back.  Why  do  you  look 
away  from  me?  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Mary 
Anne  ? 


134 


GOLDEN  DAYS 


Mary  Anne.  (Softly)  Shall  I  tell  you? 

Dick.  Please. 

Mary  Anne.  Well,  then,  I’m  thinking  of  a  little 
secret  poem  I  used  to  repeat  when  I  first  went  to 
France,  looking  up  at  the  stars,  at  night  wondering 
where  you  were. 

Dick.  What  poem  was  that? 

Mary  Anne.  A  poem  in  three  words.  ( Softly , 
looking  up  as  at  the  stars.)  Je  vows  airne,  Dick. 
Je  vous  airne ,  Je  vous  aime!  (I  love  you,  Dick,  I 
love  you,  I  love  you.) 

RING. 

Dick.  (Wild  with  joy)  Mary  Anne,  Te  vous 
adore!  (Embrace.  Crowd  off  sings ,  <{  Glory, 
glory,  ukulele,”  etc.) 


CURTAIN 


MUSIC  CUES 


ACT  II 

DANCE  MUSIC  CUES  FOR  BALL-ROOM 
MUSIC  OFF  L. 

No.  i. 

At  rise ,  play  first  strain  only ,  the  last  sixteen  bars 

heard  off  l. 

No.  2. 


Music  off  l. 

WARN  on  Elaine’s  entrance. 

PLAY  on  “ — about  half -past  six.” 

STOP  on  “ — doesn't  even  know  how  to  dress.” 
Applause  off  l. 

No.  3. 

READY  on  Mary  Anne’s  entrance. 

PL  A  Y  on  (<Mr.  T  eddy  Farnum,  our  T  eddy-Bear.” 
STOP  on  “ — sultry  day  for  June.” 

e(Will  you  take  me  in?”  Applause  off  l. 
CONTINUES  on  c(Oh!  Teddy,  you  think  you 
will  have  to.” 

STOP  on  “A  hors  de  Combat.  Oh,  a  fight.” 

No.  4. 

READY  on  “I  forgot  your  fan.” 

PLAY  on  “What  was  it  you  were  saying?” 

STOP  on  “Runs  a  tea-shop  by  day.” 

No.  5. 

READY  on  “Punch,  punch,  who'll  have  punch?” 
PLAY  on  “Just  because  you  brought  her  to  the 
party.” 

STOP  on  CURTAIN. 


DOROTHY’S  NEIGHBORS. 

A  brand  new  comedy  in  four  acts,  by  Marie  Doran,  author  of  “The 
New  Co-Ed,”  “Tempest  and  Sunshine,”  and  many  other  successful 
plays.  4  males,  7  females.  The  scenes  are  extremely  easy  to 
arrange;  two  plain  interiors  and  one  exterior,  a  garden,  or,  if  neces¬ 
sary,  the  two  interiors  will  answer.  Costumes  modern.  Plays  2J4 
hours. 

The  story  is  about  vocational  training,  a  subject  now  widely  dis¬ 
cussed;  also,  the  distribution  of  large  wealth. 

Back  of  the  comedy  situation  and  snappy  dialogue  there  is  good 
logic  and  a  sound  moral  in  this  pretty  play,  which  is  worthy  the 
attention  of  the  experienced  amateur.  It  is  a  clean,  wholesome  play, 
particularly  suited  to  high  schooj  production,  Price,  20  Cents. 


MISS  SOMEBODY  ELSE. 

A  modern  play  in  four  acts  by  Marion  Short,  author  of  “The 
Touchdown,”  etc.  6  males,  10  females.  Two  interior  scenes.  Cos¬ 
tumes  modern.  Plays  2J4  hours. 

This  delightful  comedy  has  gripping  dramatic  moments,  unusual 
character  types,  a  striking  and  original  plot  and  is  essentially  modem 
in  theme  and  treatment.  The  story  concerns  the  advetures  of  Con¬ 
stance  Darcy,  a  multi-millionaire’s  young  daughter.  Constance  em¬ 
barks  on  a  trip  to  find  a  young  man  who  had  been  in  her  father’s 
employ  and  had  stolen  a  large  sum  of  money.  She  almost  succeeds, 
when  suddenly  all  traces  of  the  young  man  are  lost.  At  this  point 
she  meets  some  old  friends  who  are  living  in  almost  want  and,  in 
order  to  assist  them  through  motives  benevolent,  she  determines  to 
sink  her  own  aristocratic  personality  In  that  of  a  refined  but  humble 
little  Irish  waitress  with  the  family  that  are  in  want.  She  not  only 
carries  her  scheme  to  success  in  assisting  the  family,  but  <  finds 
romance  and  much  tense  and  lively  adventure  during  the  period  of 
her  incognito,  aside  from  capturing  the  young  man  who  had  defrauded 
her  father.  The  story  is  full  of  bright  comedy  lines  and  dramatics 
situations  and  is  highly  recommended  for  amateur  production.  This 
is  one  of  the  best  comedies  we  have  ever  offered  with  a  large  num 
ber  of  female  characters.  The  dialogue  is  bright  and  the  play  is  full 
of  action  from  start  to  finish;  not  a  dull  moment  in  it.  This  is  a 
great  comedy  for  high  schools  and  colleges,  and  the  wholesome  story 
will  please  the  parents  and  teachers.  We  strongly  recommend  it. 

Price,  30  Cents* 


PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN. 

An  exceptionally  pretty  comedy  of  Puritan  New  England,  in  three 
acts,  by  Amita  B.  Fairgrieve  and  Helena  Miller.  9#male,  5  female 
characters. 

This  is  the  Lend  A  Hand  Smith  College  prize  play.  It  is  an  ad¬ 
mirable  play  for  amateurs,  is  rich  in  character  portrayal  of  varied 
types  and  is  not  too  difficult  while  thoroughly  pleasing. 

Price,  30  Cent*, 

(The  Above  Are  Subject  to  Royalty  When  Produced) 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  28-30  West  38tb  Street,  New  York  City 

New  asd  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  free  «n  Request 


The  Touch-Down 

A  eomedy  in  four  acts,  by  Marion  Short.  8  males,  6  females,  but 
any  number  of  characters  can  be  introduced  in  the  ensembles.  Cos¬ 
tumes  modern.  One  interior  scene  throughout  the  play.  Time,  2J4 
hours. 

This  play,  written  for  the  use  of  clever  amateurs,  is  the  story  of 
life  in  Siddell,  a  Pennsylvania  co-educational  college.  It  deals  with 
the  vicissitudes  and  final  triumph  of  the  Siddell  Football  Eleven,  and 
the  humorous  and  dramatic  incidents  connected  therewith. 

“The  Touch-Down”  has  the  true  varsity  atmosphere,  college  songs 
are  sung,  and  the  piece  is  lively  and  entertaining  throughout.  High 
schools  will  make  no  mistake  in  producing  this  play.  We  strongly 
recommend  it  as  a  high-class  and  well-written  comedy. 

Price.  30  Cents, 

Hurry,  Hurry,  Hurry 

A  comedy  in  three  acts,  by  LeRoy  Arnold.  5  males,  4  females. 
One  interior  scene.  Costumes  modern.  Plays  2x/\  hours. 

The  story  is  based  on  the  will  of  an  eccentric  aunt.  It  stipulates 
that  her  pretty  niece  must  be  affianced  before  she  is  twenty-one.  and 
married  to  her  fiance  within  a  year,  if  she  is  to  get  her  spinster 
relative’s  million.  Father  has  nice  notions  of  honor  and  fails  to  tell 
daughter  about  the  will,  so  that  she  may  make  her  choice  untram¬ 
meled  by  any  other  consideration  than  that  of  true  love.  The  action 
all  takes  place  in  the  evening  the  midnight  of  which  will  see  her 
reach  twenty-one.  Time  is  therefore  short,  and  it  is  hurry,  hurry, 
hurry,  if  she  is  to  become  engaged  and  thus  save  her  father  from 
impending  bankruptcy. 

The  situations  are  intrinsically  funny  and  the  dialogue  is  sprightly. 
The  characters  are  natural  and  unaffected  and  the  action  moves  with 
a  snap  such  as  should  be  expected  from  its  title.  Price,  30  Cents, 

The  Varsity  Coach 

A  three-act  play  of  college  life,  by  Marion  Short,  specially  adapted 
to  performance  by  amateurs  or  high  school  students.  5  males  6 
females,  but  any  number  of  boys  and  girls  may  be  introduced  in  the 
action  of  the  play.  Two  settings  necessary,  a  college  boy’s  room  and 
the  university  campus.  Time,  about  2  hours. 

Like  many  another  college  boy,  “Bob”  Selby,  an  all-round  popular 
college  man,  becomes  possessed  of  the  idea  that  athletic  prowess  is 
more  to  be  desired  than  scholarship.  He  is  surprised  in  the  midst  of 
a  “spread”  in  his  room  in  Regatta  week  by  a  visit  from  his  aunt 
who  is  putting  him  through  college.  Aunt  Serena,  “a  lady  of  the  old 
school  and  the  dearest  little  woman  in  the  whole  world,”  has  hastened 
to  make  this  visit  to  her  adored  nephew  under  the  mistaken  impression 
that  he  is  about  to  receive  the  Fellowes  prize  for  scholarship.  Her 

Kief  and  chagrin  when  she  learns  that  instead  of  the  prize  Robert 
a  received  “a  pink  card,”  which  is  equivalent  to  suspension  for  poor 
scholarship,  gives  a  touch  of  pathos  to  an  otherwise  jolly  comedy  of 
college  life.  How  the  repentant  Robert  more  than  redeems  himself, 
carries  off  honors  at  the  last,  and  in  the  end  wins  Ruth,  the  faithful 
little  sweetheart  of  the  “Prom”  and  the  classroom,  makes  a  story  of 
dramatic  interest  and  brings  out  very  clearly  certain  phases  of  modern 
college  life.  There  are  several  opportunities  for  the  introduction  of 
college  songs  and  “stunts.”  Price,  30  Cents. 

(The  Above  Are  8ubject  to  Royalty  When  Produced) 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  28-30  West  38th  Street,  New  York  City 

Niw  tad  fxpflctt  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Fret  ei  Request 


FRENCH’S 

Standard  Library  Edition 


Clyde  Fitch 
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Edward  E.  Kidder 
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Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle 
Louis  N.  Parker 
R.  C.  Carton 
Alfred  Sutro 
Richard  Harding  Davis 
Sir  Arthur  W.  Pinero 
Anthony  Hope 
Oscar  Wilde 
H  addon  Chambers 
Jerome  K.  Jerome 
Cosmo  Gordon  Lennox 
H.  V.  Esmond 
Mark  Swan 
Grace  L.  Fumiss 
Marguerite  Merrington 
Hermann  Sudermann 
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Arthur  Law 
Rachel  Crothers 
Martha  Morton 
H.  A.  Du  Souchet 
W.  W.  Jacobs 
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Includes  Plays  by 

Booth  Tarkington 
J.  hartley  Manners 
James  Forbes 
James  Montgomery 
Wm.  C.  de  Mille 
Roi  Cooper  Megrue 
Edward  E.  Rose 
Israel  Zangwill 
Henry  Bernstein 
Harold  Brighouse 
Channing  Pollock 
Harry  Durant 
Winchell  Smith 
Margaret  Mayo 
Edward  Peple 
A.  E.  W.  Mason 
Charles  Klein 
Henry  Arthur  Jones 
A.  E.  Thomas 
Fred.  Ballard 
Cyril  Harcourt 
Carlisle  Moore 
Ernest  Denny 
Laurence  Housman 
Harry  James  Smith 
Edgar  Selwyn 
Augustin  McHugh 
Robert  Housum 
Charles  Kenyon 
C.  M.  S.  McLellan 


French’s  International  Copyrighted  Edition  con¬ 
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reputation;  also  recent  professional  successes  by 
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